The Midnight Flower
by TheEternalDaylightingRanger
Summary: The Shadowhunter world is in tumoil;Valentine has murdered the Consul and Inquisitor while hundreds of Downworlders are massacred. Meanwhile the Enclaves are resisting, and a rebel group arises,The League of The Midnight Flower, making it their mission to save the captured Downworlders. Clary is threatened and forced to go against her values to save Jocelyn, awhile coping with Jace
1. Chapter 1

**Dear readers, THIS IS THE PROLOGUE!  
**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing! (however much I would like to)**

**Chapter 1**

**Clary**

Jace wasn't there. Why wasn't he there? Clary tapped her fingers nervously on the banister. She had her bags surrounding her, all ready for traveling. Again, she thought the same question over and over. It was a bit odd for these positions to be switched; her the late one and Jace the prompt one. She wanted to get to Ironwork for Isabelle and Simon as soon as possible so they'd have enough time to catch up after three years.

One of the human maids passed her quickly. "Dorothea," the woman stopped, keeping her eyes on the ground, "Do you know where my husband went?"

"He left in the morning, miss."

She sighed heavily. "Well, does he have all his things packed for Idris?"

Dorothea nodded, still staring at her shoes. "How about you go get them and bring them down so we can be as ready as possible?"

She nodded once again, obediently and marched up the stairs. She sat on a step, knowing one thing, when he got back from what she knew he was doing, there'd be hell to pay.

**Amil**

The end of the day reached slowly for the border guards in Idris. The sun still had an hour left in the sky, which meant another hour of work. Amil Pangborn wiped the sweat off his brow and stretched his aching limbs. The day had been filled up; wooden carts coming in and out through the monstrous, metal doors were thoroughly inspected.

"No Downworlder can escape on my watch." Pangborn thought smugly. Just last week, there had been two successful escapes from the Gard, and the initial burning that would've normally taken place afterwards. The two shadowhunters on guard duty were given the punishment in their place. Some may have feared to take the job, but Amil prided himself in his ability to sniff out the werewolf under the piles of seraph blades, or a warlock strategically strapped underneath a wagon.

"You think the same man is doing all this?" Pangborn spat to his brother. His brother glanced his way and grinned devilishly.

"Not one man. A whole league. At least 20, with one leader to plan the escapes. No one cleverer or smarter alive."

"Those rumors aren't true, are they? About the letters to Valentine and Wayland?" one man asked to the side. A crowd usually gathered around the few entrances to the city, watching the failed escapes with pleasure, like one would with cutting the wings off a butterfly. Gossip traveled fast; news could be carried from opposite ends of the city in the matter of minutes.

"Aye, they are. The great Valentine fooled from under his very nose. Ragnor Fell escaped, he did. Only sign was the small piece of paper with a drawing, so he says, right on his desk. Had the depiction of a flower, roughly identified as that one that blooms at midnight, only grown in the wild fields of Alicante. Underneath was the stamp of an 'M.' They call him the 'Midnight Flower.' Can't tell you how mad Valentine was. Nothing's been said yet, but I think there's been more of this, and going on longer than suggested. Not too many people are happy with this new...establishment. Not me, I'm saying! I swear-"

He as cut off by the sound of rattling cart wheels, down by the end of the cobblestone street. Driving the diseased-ridden beast of a horse, an old harpy sat, slumped toward the reins, shoulders drawn in tight. Her hair plastered against her greasy head, she shook her head at the Pangborn brothers raising a hand to stop her, the matted, stringy strands flying. "Must be mistaken, Amil. No Downworlders in my cart." she cackled. It certainly appeared so. He inspected the inside; completely empty except for the layer of dirt covering the wooden boards.

Amil hadn't suspected anything from this old woman anyway; he recognized her as one of the women in the front row of the Accords Hall, watching the sentencing for each Downworlder, calling for death, yelling "Down to the Downworlders, Forever the Nephilim!"

"Can't be too cautious, woman."

"All the same." the old bat grinned, showing of more missing teeth than there was still in her gums, the front chipped, and all rotting and crooked beyond compare.

Amil with held a shudder and grimaced, " On your way, then. Can't have you holding the line up. Some want to see the burning of Maia Roberts tonight."

"Ah, yes. Forgotten all about that. Awful trial yesterday, she had. Almost killed one shadowhunter with those awful teeth of hers. Sentenced to torture with silver and then burned."

"Yes, we know that. On your way you old hag! get on home."

She only grinned at Pangborn, with those awful teeth of her's, her face sagging with her sallow, wrinkled skin. She shook the reins, and the beast started slowly, through the gates, the same pace until they were out of sight.

Amil's brother laughed. "She unnerved, did she?"

"It was just her ugly teeth." Amil swallowed, "No shadowhunter like that should be let to live. Gives us a bad name, it does. Dirties up the good, old name, those people do. Can't stand the sight of them, those filthy creatures. Almost as bad as those lovely downworlders."

His brother chuckled, but stayed silent. There would be more teasing when they returned to their mother. Amil scratched his balding scalp "D'you think it's about time to close the gates? Sun's almost past the horizon."

"Might as well lock up for the night. No one else is likely to be coming." Each took a door and pushed, the rune covered doors creaking with protest. Slowly they came together at last, just as a dozen warriors ran up with horses behind them, fully dressed in gear.

"Where is that old woman, Pangborn?"

"She passed just under half an hour, sir." Amil stammered.

"WHAT?! THAT MAN WAS THE MIDNIGHT FLOWER! HE'S GOT MAIA ROBERTS WITH HIM AS WELL!" the man's twisted face was turning a deep shade of red, veins popping out of his forehead and neck.

"But...but she couldn't have, sir! I checked the cart myself, nothing but dirt-"

"The werewolf was hiding IN a compartment underneath the boards, you idiot!"

"But-"

"Stop your stuttering, you fool! Open the gates, and then you'll be allowed to die!"

The brother's pulled on the handles with the last of their strength, but the door still moved unnervingly slow. "Faster, you weaklings! He already has a head start on us. I SAID FASTER!"

The opening finally wide enough for two horses to run side by side, the shadowhunters galloped into the darkening dusk. The leader, held back for just the time to say, "You're dead Pangborn."

** Soooo...How'd you like it? you catch what this is based off of? The amazing classic, "The Scarlet Pimpernel." If you haven****'t read it, you should. Send me feedback, or don't, I guess...IF YOU'RE LAME. So comment or like or whatever it is you do on here.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter really is kind of a filler; there's some Sizzy, and a bit more info on the society the Shadowhunter's and Downworlders are living in. I PROMISE next chapter there will definitely be Jace (because really, isn't that **_**why **_**we read TMI Fanfic?) and Clary and see their relationship. Most of the story is in Clary's pov, it might switch over to Simon, Isabelle, or Magnus, and sorry, there is no Jace pov. But I might write a couple chapters in his after this story is done. But you'll see by the end why I can't...AHHH I'M GIVING TOO MUCH AWAY!**

**I'll just shut up.**

**Read and Enjoy **

**-L**

** Chapter Two**

Maia Roberts hopped down off the cart. She had long ago abandoned the tight confinement of her hiding place to the breezy, summer night's air. She'd always loved the outdoors, even before she had Turned. There was a certain freedom at night that Maia felt, that had only intensified since her time as a werewolf.

The moon shone eerily down on the break in the dirt path that they had been traveling on near two hours, only half full. The "woman" hadn't said a word to her, or even looked at her when she had inquired where she was taking them. So she had gone to the open end of the cart and draped her legs over the side, watching her feet swing back and forth. The only small idea of where they were traveling was somewhere in the Brocelind Forrest. She had recognized the line of trees, and the dense, compacted area of shrubs, bushes, and weeds.

The familiar bumpy road caused her heart to sing, but brought back memories of that terrifying night; Shadowhunters streaming into her pack's meeting house, the capturing of her beloved leader, Luke, and several inhumane murdering of several members, just because the warriors could. Then traveling down this old compacted road toward the Crystal City, as beautiful and dangerous as a knife, towards her impending doom.

She couldn't put aside her hatred towards Shadowhunters, even though this horrible-looking woman was one-she had seen the Voyance on the back of her hand. Nothing had matched Maia's surprise when the hag had stopped in front of cell, drawn a rune with surprising steadiness, and opened the door for her. She had pulled out a pair of fake silver handcuffs, and taken her outside in the back of the Gard, and hidden Maia in the hidden compartment at the bottom of the cart. She heard the woman's grating voice talking to the guards at the gate. She had almost cried out for joy when they passed the formidable doors.

Maia glanced up at the clearing; in front stood a four story building. It was made entirely of wood, all of it darkening from age, with a stone porch and foundation. It looked to be some sort of inn; lights glimmered from the inside. Maia turned around: the cart was gone, without a sound, along with the mysterious old woman.

Maia tugged on a strand of her brown, curly hair, a nervous habit that had arose from her time in The Gard. She looked over her shoulder again at the inn, she could make out the rusted sign, Ironwork Stop. On the ground in front of her, she could see several twenty bills. She bent to pick them, figuring they were for her stay in the inn, and walked up the steps of the porch and was about to knock but stopped herself. Who knocked when coming into an inn?

Pulling the door open, much to its protest, she saw it surprisingly mostly empty. Two men sat in the corner with their hoods drawn up, covering their faces, another two men sat anxiously, both tall with dark hair, but one more muscular, and the other lean and lanky across the room. Maia guessed that it had been built a long time ago, of course, many of the existing buildings in Alicante were over 200 years old. She guessed the same about this edifice.

The two men looked up from their hushed conversation at her, their eyes widening at both hastily standing and reaching her with just a few paces.

The lanky one blew out a breath of relief. "Maia Roberts?"

"The one and only." she smiled.

"Thank-" the boy seemed to choke on his words for a second before continuing, "We're so glad that you've gotten here safely. I'm Simon Lewis, and this here is Jordan Kyle."

"I can introduce myself without your help, thank you very much" Jordan scowled, "Jordan Kyle." He mockingly bowed to her and gestured to the table. "Shall we sit? I'm sure you're exhausted."

Maia only nodded. "Well, Maia. I'm sure you're wondering how all this happened. Everything has been planned specifically for your escape, all done by the League of the Midnight Flower."

Maia raised an eyebrow. "Midnight Flower?" she snorted, "A little girly for you two isn't it? Sounds like came from a Barbie movie."

Jordan's mouth quirked up around the corners. He had nice lips. "Metaphor. Our symbol is a metaphor. During the day, the petals are tight and closed up, seemingly dull compared to other flowers. But at midnight, it opens up, much bigger and intricate than imaginable. Our goal is to save downworlders from unimaginable deaths from the hands of justice. We," Jordan pointedly looked at Simon, "are survivors of Valentine. Both escaped with the help of the Midnight Flower"

"Is the 'Midnight Flower' some sort of leader?"

Simon cut in. "Correct. No one more clever or cunning. Master of disguise and-"

"Are you saying that the old woman...she-he- was the Midnight Flower?"

Both men nodded. Jordan was about to continue, when a clatter came from a closed door across the room. All eyes looked at the door as a string of profanities were yelled in a woman's voice. The door was abruptly flung open, and in entered a shadowhunter woman. She had black hair, twisted sloppily in the back, tall in stature, and extremely curvy. Donned in full gear, her marks were black against her pale skin. Covering her clothes, was something brown and sludgy, some chunks of a mysterious food plastered against her chest that was slowly dripping down her shirt.

The look on her face was murderous, and for a moment, Maia feared that she was some insame Shadowhunter, coming to take her back to Idris. "Food's going to be delayed for another hour." she scowled.

Simon just laughed. "Come and sit down Izzy. No one wants to eat your food anyway."

For a few seconds she glared at Simon, before cracking a delighted smile and sat next to him, scooting her chair next to his. "So, who's this one? Werewolf or Vampire?" she asked casually, like she was used to harboring criminals under her roof.

"Werewolf."

"Ahh." she looked bored, and whispered something to Simon before pulling back. His cheeks were red from embarrassment and his eyes wide. "Izzy..." he spluttered.

She only grinned and left the room with Simon trailing behind her. Maia felt very awkward, and glanced at Jordan. He was grinning goofily. "Newly Weds; one has to excuse their behavior."

"Newly Weds?" Maia's eyebrows raised. She wasn't sure how someone like Izzy could fall for a guy like Simon. He wasn't bad on the eyes , but he seemed geeky, but then again, who was she to judge?

" Married right before the revolts in Idris. The Circle almost got Simon, too."

"What is he?"

"Vampire. Izzy's a shadowhunter. Really looked down before. Marrying a downworlder is death now. So she has to hide out here, with the rest of us. She hasn't seen any of her family in-"

"Dear good Isabelle! Miss me at all?" interrupted a rich, drawling voice from the door.

**Yes, yes. I'm sorry I had to stop there. It was alright, wasn't it? I particularly am not happy with this chapter.** **Took FOREVER to write this. Hopefully I've given you something to look forward to tomorrow. Or the next day. I'm not going to be able to post a chapter every day, but I'll try at least twice a week. I don't have any designated days, just when I feel like it. Something to look forward to, huh? But I'm constantly thinking of this story all day at school. **

**Shout out to my ONE reviewer: RonaldGarcia91. You are amazing and awesome and I appreciate your feedback. And I'm excited to see where and how it goes from here too.**

**The rest of you, however. I KNOW there are quite more of you out there than Ronald here. If you're shy and don't want to review, please do, I don't bite, I swear. you don't even have to talk about the story. Have any of you read the Scarlet Pimpernel? If you haven't, then that's great, because you won't be suspecting the ending...at all. Or you can like the story. I NEED feedback from you guys. Do you like it at all? **

**-L**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, I'm really sorry. I kind of lied to you, I said that this chapter was in Clary's POV but it isn't. (Most of it) I started writing with Clary, and I realized, no I can't do that. It just didn't flow well. But I fulfilled my promise, there is Clary and Jace together in this scene. A LOT. They've been married for about 3 years, so they're both around 24 and 25. Maia's the same age as them and Simon looks like a 16 year old still. **

** The views….OH MY GOSH THE VIEWS! 100 people have been reading my story, and I can't thank you enough. I check the numbers, like every couple hours, and watch them go up every day. This story will most likely have around 35-45 chapters, so we have a long way to go. This is my favorite out of the three chapters I've written, and I hope to see some more reviews and favorites from you guys. *wink wink***

**-L**

** Chapter 3**

**Maia POV**

In walked a couple; one very short, and the other very tall. Both were wearing shadowhunter styled jackets, that were almost floor length and very light. The man drew back his hood, and Maia tried to hide the scowl on her face. He was utterly gorgeous. Almost surreal. Curly, golden hair framed his face perfectly, large tawny eyes that held an almost predatory light in them, sleepy and lazy, like a well-fed lion out on a stroll. He had light shadows under his eyes, from only one bad day of rest. he seemed only slightly travel weary. His half lidded eyes raked the room stopping at their table.

Jordan jumped from his chair. "Jace Herondale?" he asked incredulously , walking quickly towards the man and shaking his hand fervently.

"Yes, yes, don't look so surprised. I figured you were all dying slowly without me; I had to grace you all with my heavenly presence. Clarissa and I decided to visit Alicante for a while, just for your sakes."

Jordan's smile covered half his face. "We're just barely surviving, one more day and we would've been out."

"Well, then I guess it's good that we came." an annoyed voice sounded at Jaces elbow. A short woman stood, struggling with a clasp on her coat. Her hair was piled high elegantly on top of her head. She was so petite, with high cheekbones, long lashes, and small nose. And a familiar one at that.

"Clary?"

The young woman's head snapped up. Her gaze fixated on Maia, a delighted grin broke the at first cold face. "Maia? Maia Roberts? From New York?" she laughed happily, much like the sound of tinkling bells, and made her way towards where she stood."I haven't seen you in years!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the girl and giving her a friendly squeeze.

Maia was still blinking away shock of seeing her friend again. They had met a few months after Clary's marriage, and had become inseparable. Then the horrible mistake of leaving with her pack to Alicante. She quickly hugged her small friend. Her last tie to home. "You're looking well."

Clary's eyes were shining. "We had the most dreadful trip, you know. The few portals in all of Alicante, and there has to be one out in the middle of the forest! And just an old cart to travel in! With just two poor exhausted horses. They looked like they'd been going on for hours. It took _forever _to get here!"

"It was barely twenty minutes, darling." Jace sarcastically objected.

Clary glared at him. "Of course, anytime spent alone with you seems to drag impossibly forever. Perhaps that is why it took so long?" Her voice was surprisingly bitter. Jace didn't seem at all fazed; just as calm and cool as ever.

"Really, lady, you must be very tired. Anytime time spent alone...with me...is sure to bring any female into a never-ending state of bliss." Jace shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it to Clary, who caught it. He emphasized each pause, just to prove his point.

Clary groaned, flinging his coat carelessly on the back of a random chair. She sat down in it; she was having some problem with the clasp just above her heart and was viciously ripping at it.

Jace yawned dramatically, stretching his limbs. "Clarissa, dear, if you keep tugging at that clasp you'll rip it out of the seam."

"And I suppose it didn't occur to you to _help_ me?"

"_Help you?" _he asked, both eyebrows raised. He looked surprised.

"Yes, help me! Even I need it sometimes."

" You're a capable, trained shadowhunter. Shouldn't you be able to undo a clasp?"

"If we're going to talk...I can bring up several times when _you_ couldn't undo a clasp."

Jace's cheek's were only slightly pink, before he slowly walked toward her and in a low voice asked "Do you want me to help you then?" he glanced down at her chest and placed is hands on the clasp, smoothly undoing it like he was writing his own name. Clary stood frozen, staring at Jace in wonder, her cheeks also flushed. Maia was slightly puzzled by her reaction; if they were married for a couple of years, then why was she so surprised to have Jace touching her?

Jace abruptly moved away from Clary and turned back to her and Jordan, both awkward bystanders. "So where is my lovely sister?"

Jordan grinned. "They- Isabelle and Simon-went, um, upstairs...by themselves."

"Ah, see what happens when we surprise people, Clarissa? We always seem to catch them having sex. Really quite annoying, actually. We'll have to interrupt them of course. Good surprise, huh, Mrs. Herondale. We need two rooms for the two of us, and I'm already exhausted enough already."

He walked to the door, his hand on the handle, when Clary muttered something under her breath. "What was that, Mrs. Herondale?'

"Sorry, darling." the name in different voice might've been somewhat romantic, but Clary filled it with so much hatred that it sounded like a crude insult. " I said, 'If it was only twenty minutes for the journey, then why are you so tired?'"

Jace turned around slowly. "With bad company, I find it is physically draining. I was as miserable as you were, trust me." he said in a dangerous voice. And with that, he left the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

**Clary POV** **(yes i know, finally!)**

When Jace had left the room, she felt triumphant but upset that she hadn't gotten the last word. Of course, neither of them would've stopped willingly; personally she could've gone all day. She knew Maia and Jordan were both staring at her, so she decided not to smile at the door. This little exchange could have had gone forever. At first, nothing seemed wrong between them. Jace had proposed,gotten married, the perfect honeymoon, and once they had reached the Institute in New York, it had all stopped. He assigned her half to her, and the other rooms to himself. Separate mundane servants, separate dinners. At first his isolated treatment had made her cry every night. She longed to have him there next to her, in the empty bed, his arms around her, making her feel safe from the chaos happening in Idris. But no. He seemed to stop being capable of loving her anymore.  
Sometimes she wouldn't see him for weeks at a time. Isolated in his study (a room completely restricted from anyone in the household) or out on demon hunts for hours at end. Then he'd be gone on his mysterious trips. Clary had already known, anyway. He was cheating on her. She had seen him write notes and send them secretly, always returning, and then off he would go, leaving for three days and come back, happy. She felt so awful that a different woman could make him happy and not her. When she first suspected it, she tried to hint at it in the very few conversations they had in a week. She felt miserable; she had so believed that they were both madly in love with each other, would make each other happy for the rest of their lives.  
But that had happened after he'd taken her virginity. Now that she wasn't some prize to be won, a goal to break, she was in no longer any use to him; a stale commitment. Was this all because of lust, not love? Something left over from his fling with a silly, inexperienced, little girl? She had stopped hating Jace, she started to hate herself.

Then came the thought of divorce, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her pride would be ruined from the amount of "I told so's" from her mother and friends, but _she_ was still in love with him. She couldn't deny it. So even being with him, even if he so utterly despised her, and she him, Clary would cope, for the rest of her life. It wasn't all bad, though. Some part of him would come back, speak a kind word, or might brush her arm; his touch that she had so longed for for months. Just a touch from him could keep her sustained for weeks, keep her thinking about it all night, imagining what it would feel like if he had caressed her cheek, or _kissed_ her. Then the memory would become forgotten, and she would hold her own for a while, then despair after a month. Then another odd gesture to her, so rare, it had her blood pulsing and heart beating faster whenever he walked into the room, desperately wishing for the accident to happen, or his explanation on _what_ she did wrong.

When she did start to see him regularly, they would get into heated and petty fights, over the silliest and stupidest things. She fueled her rage of being ignored for so long and he fueled whatever she had done to him in the argument.

Upstairs she heard Jace yell, "SURPRISE!" Some swear words from both Isabelle and Jace; Izzy presumably threw something at him. The door slammed, and Clary couldn't hold back a little grin.

**Thanks to my two perfect reviewers and 3 followers. I love you! Dearly. Truly. So we have some Clary and Jace action. I hope you feel as sad as Clary does right now. But hey, some people were asking for it. Don't curse me for it. Blame them! Haha, don't jk I've had this planned all along.**

**-L**

**Oh and review please, I didn't realize how important reviews are until I'm writing on here, they really do lift the writer's spirit and it makes so happy to see just 4 reviews. But it would do wonders for more. I know there are above 150 of you reading. I'm watching you...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Because I'm so excited, I have to write this little snidbit of some Clace. And anonymous review, I can't write in his POV, but maybe when the story is done, I will, because then everything will be revealed, and yeah. **

** This is so cool! I get home from a concert after posting chapter 3, and I'm up 100 viewers in the matter of hours. So because I love you readers, I will give you a chapter of my own making that did not happen in the glorious book, "The Scarlet Pimpernel."**

** Chapter 4**

"Will you do it?" Jace questioned her, handing her his own stele. She reached for it with a steady hand, much to her surprise; the particles that made her whole being seemed to be ramming into each other and running in random directions.

"Of course." she almost smiled at him, the way she had when they were still dating, when they were happy- or she was at least. "You know, you shouldn't be getting yourself into these situations. Someday you might get hurt."

"She's my sister, I think I can handle her." he was making fun of her. His perfect lips were upturned slightly. One eyebrow cocked, she knew he was showing off the skills that she didn't have.

"Not her, other people. With the way things are right now, you can only be too careful-"

"Clarissa, I think I'm fine." he said coolly. Clary inwardly sighed. He must've realized he was being too nice to me she thought. "Just draw the stupid _iratze._"

She took the stele in her hand like she would if she were drawing, the familiar calluses on her fingers helped her grip it more securely. her hand wavered as Jace pulled his sleeve up. Clary had a hard time swallowing when she saw the tense bulge of his bicep, corded with veins, and the soft layer of golden skin. She always had. the thought of touching him again, if only friendly ( or however friendly one can get as a married couple) and him asking her, wanting her to made her hand shake even harder.

She gripped the sort of pen in her hand tighter and brought the stele up to his upper arm. Around his forearm there was blood dripping down from whatever Isabelle had done to Jace for walking in on them. He sucked in a sharp breath when the burning tip traced a pattern on his skin. She drew extra slow. "You really should. Be careful, I mean." she didn't hide any of the sincerity in her words.

Jace sucked a long breath, and let it out quickly through his nose. "I can't stop my nature, of hurting people." he looked sideways at her, trying his best not to move at all while Clary painstakingly long drew the _iratze_ on his arm. "Just as it is yours to not think about others around you. It's in your nature."

"What do you mean by that?" She put her hand on his arm to support herself. The warm touch of his skin sparked her senses, clearing her thoughts. For a moment, Clary thought about the Blackthorn family, all of them being burned, but she pushed it to the back of her head.

"Nothing." he muttered. "Are you done yet? This is perhaps the longest rune ever." he said impatiently.

"Done." she stopped biting her lip, and stepped away from him. Already the cut was sealing up. by morning it would barely be a scar. "What did Izzy throw at you?"

Jace pulled his long sleeved shirt down. "A vase by her bed." he replied nonchalantly.

"Jonathon," Clary started. Jace's head whipped up when she said his full name, "Will we be sharing a room or..."

"Of course not." he looked at her like she was crazy. At that he turned around and headed for whatever separate room he had that tonight. She watched his long legs disappear up the steps, and put her hands to her eyes, trying to push tears from spilling. If she started tonight, then it would most likely last all night, which would've been very obvious in the morning. Clary didn't want Jace to have the satisfaction of getting to her.

She was sick of Jace screwing her over, screwing whatever woman it was he was cheating on with, sick of him screwing her emotions, playing with her thoughts. But most of all, she was sick of herself.

**Yes, Clary is depressed, and I kind of want to punch Jace right now for being so egregious, BUT IT MUST HAPPEN! I CAN'T CHANGE IT. but I knid of liked it. I don't know about you. I'm finally getting used to managing my account and can update my story without taking forever trying to find WHERE I update it. Hopefully I'll be able to master this website well enough.**

**PLEASE REVIEW-**

**-L**


	5. Chapter 5

**This might be the only chapter for the rest of the week days. I haven't been doing ANY of my homework the past few days, you have all taken priority over my grades, and grades are extremely important to me. I have like, two PowerPoints I haven't even started on and every assignment I have I'm doing before school. So I need to focus on school for two days before I post anything again. Although if you motivate me with your likes, reviews, and followings, I might write a chapter after this and post it on Friday. Or you'll have to entertain yourself with the rest of the mediocre story fanfic. Not that other fanfics are bad, but mine is amazing, just so you know.**

**PLEASE review and like and follow and favorite! I need it.**

**-L**

** Chapter 5**

The next morning, instead of feeling enlightened from small, physical contact with Jace like she normally did, she felt old and worn out. She had gone upstairs the night before, her mind spinning and stared at the plaster in the ceiling, cracking and old with some moldy water stains making the room smell slightly musty. She tried to memorize the cracks and to imagine drawing them. Restless, she had gotten out of bed, found a pencil and stationary paper and closed her eyes. She remembered the design, and lightly traced. When done, Clary opened her eyes to see how well she had done; she crumpled it up into a ball and threw it across the room.

Clary remembered why she hadn't drawn in a long time; she only seemed to be able to draw Jace.

After the failure on drawing, she laid back down-closing her eyes this time-and tried to think. The comment on her not caring about others had jarred a memory that until then, had remained dormant. Her talking to her once most trusted companion after leaving Idris and getting married to Jace. Her knowledge of the traitorous Blackthorn family, and the death of all of them had almost been her fault. But she had convinced herself that she wasn't to blame, only the cruel Shadowhunter who had put them in that predicament.

She checked herself in the small bathroom that day. Clary didn't have the effort to fix the tangle mass of red hair, and the deep shadows under her eyes. They looked like bruises in this light. The only sign of Jace's treatment to her. He had never raised his hand to hurt her of course, but the emotional damage was still there.

Clary pulled her hair back in a long braid. She hadn't unpacked any of her things out of the large suitcase yet. They were to only stay here for a little while, and then they'd visit the old Herondale Manor, that was currently unoccupied. She had wished for a smaller one when she had to lug it up the creaky, wooden stairs last night, wishing for someone to help her. "The old Jace would've helped me without me asking" she couldn't help but think it.

Clary pulled on an old sweater, but then changed quickly out of it, she was in Alicante. She couldn't dress like a silly mundane anymore. So instead she wore dark tight fitting pants and the sheer shirt that Jace had said she looked "hot and sexy" in. This was before her marriage of course. She didn't think much of the thing anymore; she didn't want to give him the satisfaction that she was trying to impress him with low dipping collar, or how it defined her finally grown in curves. But today she didn't care. She was dressing up and looking (partially) nice for her friends who loved and cared for her. Yes, that was why she was doing it, not because the whole way to Herondale Manor they would be alone...again. And he would be looking at her. No, definitely not the latter.

She pulled on comfortable flats and raced downstairs to the wonderful the smell of burning pancakes. Most of the chairs were pulled on top of the tables, all squeaky clean. The two strangers from last night sat in the corner of the room again, both with hoods hiding their face. Except for them, it was entirely empty, so Clary pushed the door that seemed to be the source of the burning pancakes.

Over the griddle, Isabelle stood with a spatula in her hand, an intent look on her face as she stared at the pancakes. Simon stood behind her, well leaning into her really. His arms were wrapped around her waist, his face buried in her neck. She could see Isabelle's mouth moving, and Simon pulling away to nod and kiss the back of her head.

The stance was so sweetly intimate, it made her feel a stab of pain in her heart. How simple it was to touch one's spouse every day, and the joy it brought of reassuring pats on the knee, a nudge of playfulness against the shoulder, or a sweet kiss on the cheek good-bye. Gosh, she couldn't remember the last time Jace had kissed her. Two years? Three?

"Sorry to intrude-"

Simon's head shot up. He still looked sixteen from when he'd been bitten, but his eyes gave him a look of seniority. But right then, he looked as excited as child on Christmas morning. "Clary!" he bounded toward her, in a way somehow graceful and embraced her in a death squeezing hug.

"Simon...Simon...Not everyone can not breath like you." she wheezed. He quickly pulled away. Simon looked back at Isabelle, who looked very amused. He turned to face Clary, who couldn't hold back her goofy grin from seeing her old best friend from New York.

"Sorry." he grinned, not looking at all apologetic.

Clary walked over to Izzy and gave her a big hug. "It feels like it's been forever, hasn't it?"

"maybe if you'd come visit us more than once every three years, it won't!" Isabelle laughed.

"Don't blame me, Jace doesn't like it here. He hates what's going on with Idris."

"Yeah, we're not too fond of it either." Simon scowled.

Clary cleared her throat. "Have any of you seen Jace? I'm not sure when we'll be leaving."

"Jace? He wasn't in his bed, no sign it was ever slept in. Like, nothing showed of him being there except for his suitcase."

"Was he out all night?" Simon asked incredulously.

"Oh, it's not that big of a deal, he does this all the time." Clary waved her hand.

"He does? Without telling you where he's going?" Isabelle sounded shocked.

"It's no right for me to pry; he most likely went demon hunting."

"We're in Alicante, there's no demons here. The wards prevent it."

"Then...he must've-"

"What's going on between you two?" Isabelle's eyes narrowed.

Clary spluttered. "Nothing...I mean, of course there's something between us we're married..."

"Is he treating you ok? Jace never seemed the committed type of guy."

"No, he's very nice to me."

_"Nice to you?" _Isabelle asked, drawing out the sentence slowly, as if to make her point.

"Yes, what's the big deal? He's very good to me. I think we're-"

"Happy?" Is that what you were going to say? That being happy is good enough for you?" Isabelle automatically cut in. She folded her arms.

"And if I was?" Clary raised her eyebrows.

"Then I'm going to kick his sorry-"

"Language, Izzy." came a drawling voice from the doorway. Jace was leaned up against the entryway. "Trying to make my poor wife admit what's not true?"

"No," she glared, "I wasn't. Where have you been all night?"

Jace detached himself from the wall, looking at his fingernails. "None of your business, I believe." Jace nodded to Simon in acknowledgement. "Just like what was happening last night is not any of _my _business."

"That didn't stop you, did it?" she snorted.

He ignored her. Instead he turned toward Clary, raising his eyebrows, he asked, "Do you want to go to the manor now?"

She looked around. At Izzy's stubborn face and Simon's hopeful expression. Can we leave at noon? You can get rest for a few hours, and I can spend some time with them for a while."

Instead of protesting, Jace nodded, almost looking relieved and wearily left the room. They could hear him climb the stairs above their heads.

The whole time while they were visiting, Isabelle didn't bring up Jace once, which she was greatly thankful for. At some point in catching up with one another, Maia and Jordan trudged downstairs and joined in, though Jordan leaned back in his chair, not taking much part of their conversation. He mostly watched Maia with an adoring gaze, and Clary couldn't but smile; Maia needed someone to love and care for her.

Jordan's reactions to Maia reminded Clary of how Jace would bow down to his feet, practically worshipping her and doing whatever she wanted if she asked. Maybe not so drastic; Jace had some dignity. She excused herself from the group and went outside.

She ignored the two chairs on the porch and skipped off the steps. The clearing allowed sunlight to stream on top of the tall building; almost like the sun had shed one ray of light right on their heads, just to them. It did nothing to help her sour mood. The day had been just like this, when her mother had left for Idris through the portal.

"I wish you could stay longer, mom." Clary had whined. Back then, she wasn't used to Jace's cold behavior, so she always acted like a little girl. Looking back on it now, she could maybe see _why_ he had stopped talking to her; she was really _annoying. _

"I'll come back soon, baby." Jocelyn kissed the top of her head affectionately. It had almost been normal with her. Someone to ask her how she was doing, what was wrong, to tell her that they loved her...If anything, Jocelyn leaving made the void in her chest even larger.

"Give Luke my love. You should tell him to visit soon. Maybe he can come with you?" she knew how desperate she sounded, but she had to suggest it anyway. The only two people who loved her in the world was those two, her beloved parents. Both in Idris, and her stuck in New York.

"We'll try." Jocelyn smiled, though it seemed one of those yeah-sure-honey-whatever-you-say-honey smiles. Clary strained to grin, but stopped when it felt too forced. She watched unhappily as her mother vanished in the portal. She turned back to the Institute, alone. She hadn't heard a word from her since then, completely gone, just like walking through a portal.

A hand tapped her shoulder, and on instinct she pulled on the arm and flipped him over her shoulder. Whoever it was swore, and Clary immediately started laughing. The white blondish hair, big black eyes; her friend during school, who had taught her that move. "Lighten up, Woman! You just about killed me!" he put his arm out, which she pulled on and lifted him to his feet.

"Once a shadowhunter..."

"Always a shadowhunter." Jonathon nodded impatiently, finishing the ridiculous quote from school.

"It seems that this is some sort of crossroads inn, where you meet everyone from your past." She laughed delighted. First Maia, then Simon and Isabelle, now you..."

"And Jace? Is he the one from your past, or is he the same awful being he's been to you since three years ago?"

Clary bit her lip. Almost, just barely, he had been joking lightheartedly with her. But not like he used to. "Yes, he is. But that's none of your business, is it?" Jonathon stared at her with those fathomless eyes. She had found them endearing before, but now she felt unnerved. "what is it you want anyway?"

"I'm sure you know of my job description?"

"Yes, I am well aware of what you do." Clary tried to put as much disgust into that one sentence as possible.

"Then you know of The Midnight Flower?"

Clary laughed. "Of course I do. Everyone knows about him. He's really popular in America."

"Then you know of the crimes he's committed as part of an Ali-"

"I would hardly think it as a crime. What the real crime is what is happening every day, for hours on end, back in Idris. If anything, he's doing Downworlders justice." She snorted.

He became very stiff all of the sudden, his body retracting away from her. "As a part of the rebellion, an _investigator_, I would've arrested you for what you just said, but because of our old friendship, I'll restrain myself. And the information you gave not long ago is promising, especially if you're willing to do it again."

Clary paled. "I...I put that behind me. You tricked me...I would've never said anything if I had thought it would be used against them."

"Ah, but you can't put it behind you. It's impossible. They witness to testify that you killed them."

"I didn't kill them...I...I didn't mean to." Her voice broke.

"It's alright, you served your country well, and turned in traitors."

"But I didn't do it on purpose! I will not be responsible for another death!"

"What I was coming here to ask you, Clary is if you would help me...find out who The Midnight Flower is."

She whirled to face him. "And what makes you even think that I would help you?" she spat.

Jonathon grinned. "I can always threaten you. Right now I'm giving you a choice; either willingly help, or put the ones that you love in danger."

"I can't do that." Clary said nonchalantly. She hugged herself; despite the warmth of the summer day she felt cold. Like a shell.

"And so it is the 'Or', then." Jonathon smiled viciously. "Goodbye Clary Fray. Oh wait; you're Mrs. Herondale now aren't you?" With another evil smile over his shoulder, he stalked into the forest.

**Sorry if there might be mistakes, I had so much going on. A LOT of homework. Can I say right now how much I hate it? And double bonus, speeches! Out of all assignments, speeches_ you are the worst_! Don't know if you gut that reference, but whatever. Yeah this chapter took the whole day at school and hours at home. I like to take time when writing. I don't know how some other authors just spurt out a great chapter like that *snap*Can't do it. Sorry for not being able to post earlier. I should be going to sleep. But eh, who needs sleep?**

**Enough of my delirious, incompetent writing/thoughts, i thought it was pretty good, this chapter. I'm not very good with dialogue, but bot, can I describe things easily.**

**Are you at all confused? Tell me if you are, because I can see the story clear in my mind, and you don't. Though, you aren't supposed to get_ everythin_g. It's good if you slightly know whats going on, and you're trying to figure out what Clary and Jonathon are talking about. I tried to hint about it in previous chapters, but maybe I was too subtle. Or am I making you guys sound like idiots? No, definitely not the latter. there will be a bit more Jace+Clary, and some Jonathon,and Simon and Jordan. Or wait. Is that next chapter? Yes it is don't listen to my past self, live in the present, it distracts from the now. Yes, that means only Jace and Clary!**

**Oh, and 433 extra times thank you for all those reading. It's so incredible. And I love you . But I especially love the ones that are liking, following, favoritiving (not sure how to spell?) and reviewing. Extra especially to RonaldGarcia91 and AnnaW14, you guys motivate me more than you can know.**

**-L**


	6. Chapter 6

**I would've updated sooner, but I was watching a couple movies (Thor 2 an Monty Python) and was kicked off the computer right when I started writing because I "sassed" my dad. SO, anyways...To the person who was confused, I hope this chapter clears some things up, like the whole thing with the Blackthorn Family. To Beth, thank you! And, HAHA, no. Though Jace is being a complete asinine delinquent, I don't think Clary could even love any other person. And trust me, he**_** has**_** reasons! He's not being a complete jerk for no good reason. I will tell you this, Jace still loves Clary. Yep that's it mostly. Shout out to Forrest Flower, thank you for reviewing!**

**-L**

** Chapter 6**

Alicante was so old-fashioned. No electronics whatsoever. Or cars. She'd only lived in Idris, where everything was in walking distance, so Clary was surprised to see a carriage that could've come out of one Jane Austen's books stop in front of the Inn.

After her confrontation with Jonathon, she had quickly ran up to Jace's room. He'd looked startled as she had yanked the door open. He'd just been laying there, an arm thrown over his forehead like he had a terrible headache. Not even resting. He was in jeans still, but he had taken off his damp shirt. "Is everything all right?" he inquired, overly shocked to see her barging in.

"I..." Clary was about to tell him, about everything. How she was responsible for the Blackthorn Family's death, just because she had gossiped to the wrong person. How was she supposed to know that Kaelie was a spy for one of Valentine's workers? About how she wanted something to change in their relationship or she'd file a divorce, or about the awful threat she had received from Jonathon that made her fear for herself...and him.

All of it was about to spill out of her mouth; reveal her guiltiness that would surely make him despise her even more. But she had to. Or wanted to before she saw Jace looking at her. He had that cold look that had taken residency on his beautiful face. One that said, what-else-must-I-do-to-make-you-leave-me-alone-I-hate-you. Impatience and hatred contorted whatever she had thought was stunning in him; he was an empty person, one who loved to make the people that loved _him_ miserable. "What could you possibly want now? I need rest from the trip. I know...how about you come in here and cuddle with me, like old times, eh?" Jace spat viciously, lifting up the covers to let her in. "Most of all right now, I need a break from you. I'm not used to dealing with you all the time, it's quite draining actually. How did your friends ever put up with you?"

Any intention of telling him her heart's worries vanished. She couldn't remember him talking with so much bitterness. Clary had never actually believed that Jace didn't love her, but now she was completely and utterly convinced. She could practically feel her face falling. If he had said this to her while they were dating, she would've yelled, slapped him...maybe even broken it off right then. But she had been a different person; spunky, sarcastic, not afraid to stand up against oppressors. But the captivity of grief makes one more docile; as submissive as an old beaten dog is to his abusive owner, loving them and hating them at the same time.

"I was just...um, coming up to, uh-"

"Will you spit it out all ready?" He demanded. Everything about him was harsh and mean. How could she have married such a monster?

"I was going to say that now would be a good time to leave for the manor, if it's a few hours away. We'll be there by dinner if we leave now." She replied cooly, trying and succeeding in not making it look like his words were affecting her. But she could feel the sting behind her eyes, that tears would soon follow. Clary blinked hard.

"Well, you first have to call on a mode of transport to get there. Have you done that?" he spoke slowly, as if he was explaining to a little child.

"No." she replied, "I haven't. How does one do that?" she drawled out the words too.

"Just tell Isabelle to do it for you. She'll fire message somebody for you, since you can't even do that..."

"Will you just stop that?" Clary demanded. "I'm sorry if you hate me, but you don't have to make me feel awful for my incapability of doing anything right." Jace opened his mouth, he was honestly shocked. "Did you expect me to take your insults? Without complaint? Well, I'm not!"

Jace did something that enraged her even more. He smirked. He was able to get under her skin, react just like he had wanted her to. "I hate you." She spat at him.

Clary had turned and slammed the door. "Love you too, hun!" Jace shouted at the door, his voice faint and muffled. Now her tears had finally begun to spill over her cheeks, and she ran to her room and practically threw herself onto the bed, sobs racking her body. The only coherent thought was taking up a chant;_ I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace. _She breathed in the musty sheets, making her mind clearer. _I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace I hate Jace._

A knock sounded at the door. For one hopeful moment she immediately thought of Jace, coming to apologize for being such an impetuous pig. But they were crushed when she heard Isabelle's voice say, "The carriage is here for and Jace." A pause. "Can I come in?"

Clary nodded, but then felt stupid, Isabelle couldn't see her. "Yes, come on in." her voice sounded broken and rough. It reminded her of nails scratching a chalkboard.

"You're a mess." She stated bluntly.

She wiped her eyes and sighed before turning to glare at her. "Thank you, I feel so much better." She said dryly.

"Sorry." Izzy grimaced, "If it makes anything better, Jace looked pretty wrecked up when he came downstairs for the fire message."

Clary frowned. "Why on earth is he shaken up about it? He has absolutely no right, no right at all..."

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened exactly?"

"Jace...we're having problems. We got into an argument. Really harsh, actually."

"Problems?"

"Problems to the point where I don't see him for days, he doesn't acknowledge me in anyway, we don't even share the same room. _That's_ how bad it is." Clary's voice cracked slightly.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked, her eyes in wonderment.

"Right after our Honeymoon. We got to the institute and he acted as if I didn't exist, not worth his time at all."

"So your saying you haven't done _it _since three years ago?" she looked bewildered.

"Out of everything I just said, you only got that?"

"Sorry...Just...Wow, how have you not like, jumped him on sight? That's pretty horrible. How is Jace maintaining his sex drive?"

"ISABELLE!" Clary looked aghast, but then put her head in her hands. "I don't even want to answer that question."

Izzy's eyes widened. "You don't think he's been cheating on you, do you?" when she didn't answer Izzy pulled Clary in for a comforting hug. "I'm going to kill him." she said with force but softly. Very menacing. "Have you caught him, you know-"

"No, but he'll be sending and receiving secret notes, then leave for days, then come back cheerful. I took a while for me to realize that there must be another woman in Jace's life."

"Most likely there are several." She muttered. Clary glared at her.

"_Not helping_!"

"Sorry." She paused, not sure what to say next. "Soo...do you want me to go yell at him right now?"

"Oh, gosh no. Don't even mention it to him."

"You know there is only one way to approach this."

"Yes." So Clary got up to reapply some of her makeup and fixed her hair into an elegant updo (with the help of Isabelle, of course). Her eyes were only slightly puffy, not even bloodshot anymore. She helped her bring her heavy suitcase down to the edge of the landing, where the dining room was; where Jace stood impatiently, pacing around the room several times, before going still, then repeating.

"It's there then? The carriage?" Clary asked timidly

"Yep, right about to pull up outside." Jace's voice was a bit more gentle, but he looked as nervous as she was. He was constantly raking his hands through his hair, pulling the strands annoyingly adorable in different directions. "Ready to go?" She nodded, and Jace grabbed the suitcase out her hand, much to her surprise. Was he trying to make it up to her? Did he realize that he had taken it a step too far?

"Thanks." Clary looked away, feeling extremely uncomfortable. They stood there awkwardly, until someone called from outside.

"Ah, here finally." Jace gratefully jumped towards the door and opened it for her. She felt pleasantly surprised, and blushed one of her infamous blushes. He did the same thing for getting into the carriage; opened the door, helped her in... It was weird.

Silence filled the small space between them. He sat next to her, their thighs, hips and legs constantly brushing each other. Occasionally one foot would nudge the other, one would say a quick, muttered 'sorry' and the other 'that's ok'. Clary couldn't stand it. "So...what were you doing that made you so tired yesterday?" she finally said, breaking the silence.

She so desperately wanted him to admit it, to say that he was cheating on her...for years. She wanted him to beg for her forgiveness, that they could work through it, but instead, "Nothing that would interest _you_."

He didn't sound guilty at all. "I'm sure I can bare to hear it."

"If you really want to know, I was out buying new shoes." He grinned, kicking out his feet on the seat before them.

They were indeed new shoes; they still had that extra shine to them.

"Was there anything _els_e?"

Jace frowned, his eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Clary closed her eyes. "Nothing." She sighed

"No, really." He put his hand on her knee. Her eyes flew open. "_What do you mean_?"

She looked down at her lap and shook her head, not able to withstand the intensity of his gaze. She stared instead at his golden hand ; long-fingered like a musician's and callused from fighting for years of his tried not to move, so he might forget that his hand still rested against her black-cladded lower thigh. When he had said that last part, he'd squeezed her sharply, sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She suppressed her confusion and the sudden euphoria making her head all fuzzy. She instead just shook her head, still thinking of his awful treatment to her earlier in the day.

"If you answer me, I'll go up further." He grinned cockily. He moved only a few inches up, his touch as light as a feather, causing goose bumps to erupt everywhere. He leaned closer to her, smirking at the sight of the little dots covering her arms, obviously liking the reaction. Her heart raced, a pulsing started in her head. Moving up only a little more, his fingers brushed just barely against her inside thigh and she jumped, licking her dry lips.

Jace lifted his hand from her, chuckling. Clary's cheeks were slightly warm, and she must've looked flush. "Really, you're missing out right now."

"I thought that's what I've been doing for the past few years." She muttered. She looked down, but up again when there was silence from him.

Jace looked astonished. "You never mentioned it before, your unhappiness with what's going on."

This time Clary stared straight at him, "What girl is fine with her husband not touching her at all, to the point arm brushes are felt intimate? Tell me, what girl likes to be ignored for days? What girl likes to hear her husband saying that he has to have breaks from her so he doesn't become exhausted? Even better, what kind of man treats someone like that?"

She'd said too much. He didn't respond at all. "And I'll assume that even knowing my discontent, you'll still be out behind my back, keeping those stupid secrets."

For a minute, Jace paled. He recovered quickly, allowing the expression for less than a second. He raised an eyebrow. "And what have I been doing behind your back?" he leaned into her until his nose brushed her ear and his warm breath rushed down the nape of her neck. "What secrets have I been hiding from you?" he whispered seductively to her.

She took a deep breath and let it out before opening her eyes and turning her head sideways, to the point where the space between them was almost nonexistent. His eyes had darkened, his breath hitting her mouth at a smaller, faster rate. Just one small bump and they'd be connected again, in a way they hadn't been since they were married. She glanced down at his lips, partly parted; they looked perfect end soft, his bottom lip stuck out further than the other. She'd memorized every bit of his gorgeous face, and even now she could still remember how when they kissed, everything went distant; the kisses that were frantic and full of passion, the ones that lasted for hours, and the slowly built up ones.

She said the first thing on her mind. "When are you going to admit that you're cheating on me?" she asked breathily.

Jace leaned away from her sharply. "What makes you think that?" he frowned

"So I've guessed right? That's where you've been going all this time, to see whoever it is you're screwing. I see your little letters to each other; you burn them to make sure no one reads them so as not to ruin the family name. That's what's going on, isn't it?" Clary wasn't sure why she sounded triumphant.

"I thought I was more careful than that." He muttered, lost in thought.

"Well, you obviously weren't, and there's got to be some changes in this relationship-"

Jace swung the door open, and leaped outside. "Jace!" she screamed.

He waved his hand and shouted, "We'll talk more about this later, ok?"

"Ok?"

**Longest chapter so far. A lot of angst stuff. Jace is a jerk, but what's new? Any confusions at all?**

**-L**


	7. Chapter 7

**So here's the 7th chapter, I hoped you enjoyed the last. Thanks to all who have been reviewing. Dear guest, Yes of course it's a Clace ending. I think they're my OTP. Everything will work out eventually...mostly in the last chapter. Huge plot twist that you all will freak out over, I think. So here it is.**

**-L**

** Chapter 7**

Clary sat alone in the carriage. She had reached a change in the road, instead of a dirt path, it was now paved with cobblestones like the streets in Idris. A cool wind blew through the open window, making her shiver. It was cold for a day in late Summer. They pulled up in front of a beautiful, large mansion. It had at least five stories, if not seven, with large, French doors on the sides of the house. Two balconies jutted out on both the left and right wing of the manor. The lawn was well trimmed, flowers blossoming everywhere and a grove of trees in the backyard. It was breathtaking.

The coachman helped her out and she thanked him. In a daze, she wondered how rich Jaces' parents had been. His mother and father were apparently desperately in love, but when his mother's parents both died in a demon fight, she went half insane from grief and went terribly sick. At least that's what her mom had told her. Jace's mother had died just a year later after her parents death.

Jace didn't say much about his father, because he had died when he was just barely 10. So he had lived with the Lightwoods for the rest of his teenage years. Clary felt slightly haunted when she walked in the house. Everything was covered in white sheets. The first room was grand, old-fashioned like everything else about Alicante.

It was the entire bottom floor. Beautiful woven rugs covered the dark wood floor, with tons of coaches and chairs with velvet cushions that surrounded glass coffee tables. A grand fireplace was at the back of the room, a small fire was burning in it. Both east and west walls curved outward to make a large, sectioned off area. Over both these areas were huge chandeliers and both had the two white pillars that supported a large inside balcony and led to a spiral staircase. The railings along the balcony wove and spun together were made of iron. The curtains were a goldish color, matching the gold the chandelier and the lining of ceiling. Everything was bright and airy, despite how the sun was near the horizon. The night brought the house a spell of enchantment.

Clary stared in awe, her hand brushing the edges of the furniture to make sure nothing was a figment of her imagination. She walked toward the French doors on the west side of the room and flung them open. She sighed as the cool summer breeze brushed over her, her hair tickling Clary's cheeks and neck. The wind moved the white sheets with a ghostly quality to it.

"Are you enjoying it?" a smooth voice sounded from behind her, making Clary jump and turn around. Jace stood gazing at her, his eyes raking her body in a predatory way that he sometimes did when she wore something flashy. her heart stuttered quickly. His hair was everywhere, like someone and been fisting it and tangling it. The thought made her feel empty; did he leave her just to go see his mistress for the last time and say, "Sorry, my awful wife found out about you, we have to break it off, but only after we passionately make out for a while." Clary pushed the thought out of her mind; since when had she become so insecure about herself? "Yes, it's really beautiful." she said, turning to face outside again.

He stepped toward her and put his arms around her waist, leaning against her and putting his face in her neck. Right then, Clary could've imagined them together, with perfect lives, perfect relationship, nothing wrong surrounding her and Jace...but it wasn't. In reality, everything about this was wrong. He was cheating on her, and he hadn't even said he was sorry...or anything. her body stiffened. Jace must have felt the change, because he moved his face against the back of her neck, his lips against her skin. "What's wrong?" he whispered. He started to plant soft, butterfly kisses against her neck and moving to her collarbone.

Clary unsuccessfully suppressed a shudder and turned to face him. She took his hands off her with difficulty, any touch from Jace could melt her to his will. She still held his wrists as she replied, "Everything is wrong, so much is, I don't know what's right anymore."

Jace's eyes were dark, nearly black; she could see the moon reflected in them. "We're right. I know we are-"

"Are we Jonathon? Because I'm not so sure." Clary looked down at her feet, so nervous with the tension he was making her feel.

"Of course we are." his voice was low and fierce. His right hand twisted from her circle of fingers and tilted CLary's chin upwards with one finger, her eyes meeting his. He was so close to her, his breath pushed small hairs back. "How can I make you see that I do-"

She desperately wanted to let him kiss her; she knew he did. But that wouldn't resolve anything, just leave her hopeful and then empty from his refusal of her _again. _So instead, "Tell me..." she said breathlessly, "what are you keeping from me? Admit what you did was wrong. We can work through it, I know we can. I still love-"

"But I _can't _admit it, because I didn't do anything wrong. If anything you did the wrong thing."

"_What_ are you _talking_ about?" she exclaimed. "Are you saying that this is all my fault?" she ripped his hand away from her, any feeling of breathlessness left her, rage replacing it.

Jace clenched his jaw, the little bone popping out. "Yes it is." his eyes stayed dark, not from passion, but the same rage Clary was feeling. How dare he, was all she could think. She wasn't being unfaithful to him like he was to her.

"You're right, everything is my fault." she replied coldly.

"Not all things," he sounded sarcastic now, "but most of the time, yes."

"You know, you are such an-"

"Language, Clarissa."

"I don't even know why I'm bothering to talk to you, you'll just show me where I'll be staying-separate from you of course-and I'll pretend that I'm fine with that-" Clary threw up her arms and stumbled backwards, away from him before he caught her arm, pulling her flush against him.

"Do you want to?"

"What?" she asked, her heart speeding up crazily.

"Do you want to share a room?" he asked with a low, bated breath.

She looked into his eyes that were so close hers, she almost felt like she was being swallowed up by them. "No."

She felt satisfaction at Jace's surprised look, evident on his face. He blinked several times, probably experiencing his first rejection when it came to the bedroom, specifically his wife of all people. "Alright then..." he scratched the back of his neck stepping away from her again. "You have the West Wing, I have the East. You aren't allowed to enter my study at any point in time. You can explore the rest. I'm sure that the Library you'll enjoy the most. There's also a training room on the top floor if you're ever interested."

"Thanks." she said distantly, her mind already wondering what lied ahead upstairs, and tomorrow the whole day to explore. Jace chuckled quietly and left for across the room for the staircase that led to his area. She started up the stairs just as Jace did, and she felt like this had come out of a movie. Both balconies faced each other and they both paused across the room to look at their spouse. Jace nodded, but she just turned around sharply and left.

Why had she let her guard down? Most of all, why had he? He didn't deserve any kind word from her, and apparently- according to Jace-neither did she. There was something else that he wasn't telling her. She could feel it. Of course, she wasn't being entirely truthful with him, either. Then again, she would've told him everything if he hadn't gone and yelled at her in the Inn.

Clary crossed through beautiful hallways, pulling off the sheets and finding that the design was basically the same as downstairs: gold lining everything, smaller chandeliers, comfortable sitting rooms that were filled with chairs, and when she reached her bedroom, she stood staring at it for a long time.

Chairs were stationed everywhere, in sitting arrangements facing each other. A large writing desk faced the wall. At one end was a dormant fireplace, and in the other room was a huge, four-poster bed. The sheets and bed-spread were also in a golden design. Several ottomans surrounded the bed, which gave Clary the image of Jace's mother dying, and her family hovering over her, hoping that the next breath wouldn't be her last. She quickly pushed the thought away; she'd be sleeping in that bed.

There were two bedside tables with lamps on them. But what really caught her attention was the large French doors that led to the balcony outside. She walked outside, feeling like a princess as she leaned forward over the railing. At the edge of the lawn, a great expanse of trees, and somewhere beyond that, she knew was the crystal city.

Simon and Jordan cautiously climbed down the stairs and immediately bolted toward the mantel piece. On it, was a slip of paper, just like the Midnight Flower had promised. It read:

**Friends,**

** I'm not able to fulfill the current plan of rescuing Luke Graymark due to issues. You must see through it to the end for me. Jocelyn Fairchild has received notice of this change, and is ready to fulfill her part. I bid you good luck with it,**

**-M**

"I saw him just before he left after dropping off Maia. He gave me instructions to tell you that you will be taking his place." Simon informed Jodan, who paled considerably.

"He trusted me with it?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"All in good faith of you, of course." Simon replied solemnly. "He's going to be at the Warlock's party for further instructions if you need it. He'll get a note to you as soon as possible at the-" Several large figures that were clothed all in black stood over a now crumpled form of Simon, a lump slowly growing on the back of his head. Jordan sprang up, claws raking at two of the attackers, one reeling away just in time, but the other not so lucky. Jordon spun around to face the other attacker; he was definitely a shadowhunter. The way he moved with grace and speed gave him away. All three wore black masks, with three large circles splayed;one in each eye socket, and the third between where his eyebrows should be. Masks had always creeped out Jordan, but this unnerved him. He faltered for barely a second before leaping at the man. But he had been too late. The man saw the pause and his whole body tensed, sidestepping him easily and going in for a blow in the stomach repeatedly. The man dropped Jordan on the ground; he was obviously unconsious.

"So I have nearly caught up with you, Midnight Flower. I'll certainly catch you at this party of yours." the shadowhunter laughed evilly upon seeing the note. He tore off the mask to read it.

**Bum Bum Bum! So the Midnight Flower has some of his plans revealed, and there's a party at Magnus' place that I'm looking forward to writing very much. Not the next chapter, but after that is I think when it starts. So far, I think this has been my favorite chapter so far. Some Clace frustration again, but I think that's going to happen for the rest of the story, so sorry...kind of...HAHAHA Who am I kidding, of course I'm not!**

**-L**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks to all of those that are reviewing; I'm really happy to see the numbers go up. I have a question for you all. Do you think I should change the first chapter? I mean, like add a prologue to it with some Clace to engage the readers? Because the views from chapter 1 compared to chapter 2 are drastically different. So maybe should I include The wedding, or right after the honeymoon? What do you think? Please, I need your honest opinion about it.**

**-L**

** Chapter 8**

Jonathon smirked as he watched the mangy werewolf crumple to the ground. He triumphantly tore off the mask that hid his identity and hungrily read the note.

**Friends,**

**I'm not able to fulfill the current plan of rescuing Luke Graymark due to issues. You must see through it to the end for me. Jocelyn Fairchild has received notice of this change, and is ready to fulfill her part. I bid you good luck with it,**

**-M**

Jonathon smirked, so Jocelyn was a spy He was one step closer to finding the Midnight Flower. So many cards were finally falling into place; a place of meeting for the traitorous schemer and most of all, something to...persuade Clary Herondale into helping him. His plan was finally succeeding.

Clary woke the morning after to bright sunshine streaming through her French doors, still wide open from last night. She couldn't remember how she had gotten into bed, but she recalled strong arms lifting her from her porch chair, and a feather light kiss on her forehead. Clary shook her head; definitely a dream.

She remembered the plans for today; explore. She had already seen most of her living area, but not the other top three floors. Walking down one of the bright hallways, she turned at random and collided into someone. The woman had dozens of white sheets piled so high that her face disappeared in the white linens. She staggered backwards, trying to keep her balance as some sheets fall off the mound.

"Sorry!" Clary exclaimed, "I'm really clumsy."

"The fault was mine, Mrs. Herondale." came a muffled voice.

"Do you happen to know where Jonathon is?"

"I saw him eating in the kitchen just now, actually." she replied and hurried past Clary, stumbling blindly down the stairs.

"Yes, but where is that?" she muttered to herself. The whole first floor was one large room; Clary hadn't seen any kitchen areas there or in the west wing. "Exploring it is, then."

She went up one white painted side staircase to the third floor. The first several rooms in the hallway were empty, except maybe a few random pieces of furniture. Then came some spare bedrooms, still covered in white sheets. This floor seemed utterly deserted.

Clary arrived at yet another stairway, and climbed again. This time, she heard music, coming from a distant room. The song was in an old opera, on some old record; at random parts the words would skip. The man and woman were singing to each other in Latin. Clary had learned the language back at the academy in Idris.

The woman sang her part in echoing vibrato. The tune was haunting.

_ You turn and someone betrays you_

_ Betray him first_

_ And the game's reversed_

And the man joined her then, the words sending chills down her spine.

_** For we all are caught in the middle**_

_** of one long treacherous riddle**_

_** Can I trust you? Should you trust me too?**_

Clary hurriedly walked past the music, to where she could smell eggs and bacon. Surprisingly, the kitchen was very modern; stainless steel fridge, oven, a large spacious area to walk around and a huge Island in the middle of it all. Sit on stool pulled up to the edge of it, sat Jace, his back stretched out and hair messily tousled.

"Good morning." she said indignantly, walking past him and opening the fridge to find containing only eggs and milk.

"Good morning." Jace replied sunnily. "How are you doing this fine morning?"

"Alright, actually, until I find out we have nothing but eggs. You know I hate eggs." Clary huffed.

"Do you? It completely crossed my mind." he said, still as bright as ever, happily munching on his scrambled eggs. "I believe there's a loaf of bread in one of those cupboards. You can make some toast." he waved his hand generally.

"Which one?" she asked, staring at the what seemed hundreds of cupboards.

"I don't know, one of them?"

She sighed and started the long process of opening every single one. "So…what's the plan today?"

"Plan?" he asked, confused.

"Like what are we doing today?"

"Well, I'm going out. I don't know about you, but I'm already getting cabin fever being stuck in this place."

"We've been here for less than a day, Jonathon."

"Have we? All the same, still."

Clary sighed. "When will you stop lying to me?" she asked quietly.

"Lying? I'm not lying to you."

"Yes you are!" she exclaimed, slamming one of the doors shut and spinning around to face him. "You lied just there. You can't even trust your wife enough to say what it is."

Jace leaped from his seat. "You've already made up your mind that I'm cheating on you! Why must I say it? Why does it _matter_? It's really none of your own business about-"

"It's every part of _my_ business! How can you say this doesn't matter?" she yelled at him.

Jace brushed past her, slamming his dishes in the sink and storming out of the room. Clary almost smiled, but then felt horrible for even thinking it. Jace's coldness was rubbing off on her.

Clary had finally found the library when something started ringing, echoing through the empty house. She ran to a window, and saw a white blonde head at the door. her stomach seemed to freeze. She robotically went downstairs, and reached the door.

Jonathon smiled charmingly at her. "How is my dear little friend? How's Herondale serving you?"

"I have a feeling you came here for purposes other than socializing." she said coolly.

"Woohoo…getting straight down to business, then?" he said sarcastically.

"I don't need you wasting my time."

"Well, why don't you let me in?"

Clary narrowed her eyes at him and frowned, making room for him to step through the door. He flung himself lazily on a nearby sofa, while Clary hovered by him, not sure what to do. "well sit down, no need to look so uncomfortable in your own home." he said, looking down at his fingernails.

"You said you had business to discuss with me?" she asked impatiently.

Jonathon looked up. "Ah, yes. I'm sure you remember our last…conversation?" she nodded. "And you remember of my promise to make you help me catch the Midnight Flower?"

"You mean 'threatened'?"

He waved his hand. "Same difference." he reached into his pocket and retrieved a slip of paper. "Read this, please."

She quickly skimmed it. "How's this supposed persuade me to help you?"

"It's clear evidence that our mother is a traitor, helping Downworlders, and even worse, the Midnight Flower."

"How do you know this isn't a sham? It could possibly be fake, or staged…" she stopped talking after seeing Jonathon's face. Her palms started to get clammy and cold. She didn't like how nervous she was getting, or where this was going…

"Dear Clary, do you even know who sent this note?"

She looked down at the paper; at the capitalized M stamped at the bottom. "Surely…not the Midnight Flower? How do you know whether or not it is forged? An M like that can be-"

"I am one hundred-percent sure, darling. I actually received it from your two friends, Jordan and Simon, both in league with him, of course."

Clary's face paled considerably. "What have you done to them?"

"Nothing, I assure you. Just knocked out, drooling on the floor of Ironworks, actually. You're lucky I'm in a rush, otherwise I would've taken them both to Idris, for trial and burning."

"Thank goodness for that." she muttered. "but what does this have to do with me?"

Jonathon stared at her for a while. "Because," he said slowly, "if you don't agree to help me catch the Midnight Flower, then I'll turn this in to the government, and your mother will be killed."

** Another Cliffie, sorry. But yeah, How'd you like it? So Jace has gone off to who knows where, Jonathon's forcing Clary to turn in the Midnight Flower, and Simon and Jordan are unconscious...what else could go wrong, eh? Next five chapters will be Magnus' party, so enjoy. Not much interaction of Clace though. More like secrets, and plot line unlike all these filler chapters. It's crazy that this has not even been up for a whole week! keep reviewing, guys. You know I love it.**

**By the way, tat song is called The Riddle, and is in the Musical of The Scarlet Pimpernel. It's pretty epic. Go look it up on youtube.**

**-L**


	9. Chapter 9

**This will be kinda short because I had to go to a Basketball game. No not playing, silly. That would require physical exertion. No, I'm playing in the Pep Band. So yes, I'm a band nerd, but not hardcore. So enough of my excuses for short chapters, here it is. And thanks to AnnW14 for giving me excellent input.**

**Please keep reading, this has been so awesome.**

**-L**

** Chapter 9**

"You…you wouldn't dare, you-"

"You know I would, Clary, dear. I told you I'd be getting you to help me, didn't I? I never go back on a promise."

"You're making me do something unethical, something I would never, ever do! Against any values and beliefs I have!"

"Not actually so, considering the whole Blackthorn incident…"

"Shut up, you…you…." Clary struggled for a word to describe him, swearing was usually her tension release when it came to verbal, but right then, it would've made her sound like a little, teenage girl delinquent, arguing pettishly with a grown man. "Imbecile, You're a traitor to Jonathon Christopher, to the Angel Raziel and the main purpose of Shadowhunters! you tricked me into talking about them, just because I knew a little information that you didn't, you just had to get it out of me somehow, didn't you? You told Kaelie to talk and gossip, and so I did as well." She picked a pillow of the couch and flung it at him. He ducked, missing him by a few inches. "I barely mentioned it, but that's all it takes, isn't it? Some form of traitorous proof or witness against them? You used me, I thought I could trust you and your acquaintances considering how long we've been friends….but I can't even trust my life long friend. The one person who I thought hadn't been lying to me, and you do the worst act, claiming that it's my fault, that I turned them in purposefully. the whole family… you killed them all, all ten of them…how can a humane person even do that?" she ranted, starting to yell very loudly in monologue. Lifting another pillow to launch at him.

He jumped to standing, and grabbed her wrists tightly, restraining her from releasing more pillows in her fury. "Let go of me, you creep…" she spat at him, trying to twist her hands away like Jace had taught her, but he only tightened his grip on her. Clary squeaked in pain. "Stop, you're hurting me."

He made no motion to loosen his grip; if even possible, he seemed to get a better hold of her. She was sure she'd be getting bruises braceleted around her wrists. "You will help me, because I know you love your mother to the point of death. And you won't let her burn, not if you could do anything to stop it."

He knew her well. She cursed herself for even getting along with him in the past. He knew her more than anybody, besides perhaps Simon or her mother. "Here is the plan," his face dangerously close to hers, their hands the only thing between them. She saw out of the corner of her eye the human servant coming down the west spiral stairs. She desperately wanted her to come and interrupt him, save her from the monster of a 'friend.' But instead, she turned pale and turned back around, hurrying up the steps back the way she had come. "Number One: Don't tell anyone of this, understand? Number Two: You will follow my instructions. Number Three: I will only burn the note and any other evidence of your mother, and I mean only when, I have the Midnight Flower in Idris, captured. Understand? Any act, any suspicion I have about you, I will turn in your mother."

She tried to swallow the lump that had formed. "I understand."

"Perfect." he speedily continued, "I have received information that the Midnight Flower will be at the next party at Magnus Bane's house in London. And I've also heard that you and Jace have been invited to attend?"

"Jonathon is good friends with him." she replied in a monotone voice, making her sound a million miles away.

"He is going to be giving Jordan and Simon instructions through some note. Your job is to intercept it without letting them see you do it. Then you must tell me what it said."

"Got it." it was either The Midnight Flower, the savior of countless Downworlders, and future ones as well; or Jocelyn, her own mother, that had cared and loved and supported her. Even after marrying Jace. That last one was obviously a big mistake.

At that moment, her big mistake came crashing through the door, stumbling out of his shoes, his hair in his eyes like someone had been raking their hands through it. He looked up, his eyes were alight strangely. "Who have we got here Clary?" he drawled, slightly stumbling over words. Ah, he was drunk.

"Jonathon? Don't you remember him? He came to our wedding."

"A wedding?"

"You know, the one about three years ago, we were bound for life." she wasn't in any mood to deal with his obnoxious behavior.

His face lit up with recognition. "Ah, yes. That one. Not sure which one you were referring to."

"Because you've had to so many weddings."

"All in Vegas. We always got divorced the night after. I never seemed to be able to stay to one marriage easily. Well, until this one that you've chained me in."

"No one's forcing you to stay."

Jace stared at her, suddenly serious and yearning in his eyes. she suddenly wondered if he was really intoxicated. "I know." he nodded to her.

Jonathon cleared his throat. "Nice time catching up with you Clary. We'll have to do it again sometime." he smiled falsely. He stepped outside and Jace immediately slammed it shut behind him.

"Who was that?"

"An old friend." she lied.

He raised his eyebrows. "What was he doing here?"

"We were just catching up. Nothing you'd be interested in." she quoted, mocking from earlier. She brushed past him towards the west wing staircase.

He made his way to the left wing stairs, going slowly like Clary was, taking a step every time she did. "I'm sure you could enlighten me?"

"Only after you tell me what you were doing."

They were both hiding something from each other. They both knew it, felt it. She reached the landing and leaned against the iron railing of the balcony. Jace did the same. "I don't think you'd be too happy to hear what I was doing all day."

Clary's stomach churned, and she grimaced. "Maybe I don't" was all she said before turning for her room.

"Oh, wait. Hold on Clary." he said quickly, his hand reaching out to her across the huge twenty feet distance between them.

"Yes?" she asked hopefully, her heart fluttering quickly. Had he finally given up his pride to tell her?

He sighed and looked away. "Be ready at 5 PM to leave for Magnus', alright? I don't want you to make us late."

'Hope crusher' was all she could think. She nodded and turned to her room , not bothering to say good night.


	10. Chapter 10

**Really, readers? 1 review?! That's pretty pathetic. Sorry just saying. I thought there was some good stuff in there. I'm trying to make my chapters longer , but if it isn't, it isn't. I've decided to keep the first chapter the same. I just updated it saying that it was the prologue.  
**

**PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! ( I know I sound desperate and pathetic, sorry)**

**-L**

** Chapter 10**

Clary stepped into the silky, silver dress she had gotten as a wedding present. She'd never worn it before; the only time she would've needed to was to make Jace notice her. But to be honest, dressing for Jace made it feel like trying to make a teenager be attracted to a nine year old. The teenager might think, oh she's cute and adorable, but not beautiful or sexy. Or the teenager was just a creeper.

Her hair was up again; an elegant, wavy swirl, intricate braids woven throughout her red hair. She checked the clock, it was 15 after 5. She had been secretly planning to be late anyway on purpose. Clary readjusted the straps of her dress, pinched her cheeks and grabbed the thin, transparent sash, wrapping it around herself. Ambling down the two hallways to her separate staircase, she knew Jace would be almost dying because her fantastic punctuality, and, thinking of him urging her out the door, his impatience was a normal of trait of good old Jace. She grinned dazzlingly as she swept down the steps, and just about collapsed on the floor laughing. There, on the last step was Jace, his chin resting on top of the step, a longing, hopeful, pouty face all in one expression. His legs and arms were draped on the floor in a motionless kind of way. He looked so bizarre that she held onto the banister, wiping away tears that sprung from her eyes.

She glided the rest of the way, bending down to ruffle his hair playfully. He rolled from his chin to his hard jaw and looked at her, grinning. "You ready, finally?"

Clary laughed, "Yes I am finally ready. We can leave now." It felt normal, him joking with her, not getting mad at simple things, her not yelling at him…She felt bold for a moment as he was getting up, and grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently.

Jace stared at her for a moment, their shoulders brushing a little. His muscles were tense, like they had been every time she brushed his bicep lightly with her fingertips. She reached up to stroke his arm, feeling the strong desire to touch him for some reason. But it wasn't like that now. He was taut because he was resistant to her, on guard. Jace dispatched their hands slowly and stepped away from her. "Touchy feely, today?"

"It happens sometimes."

Jace raised his eyebrows provocatively "Do you?" he asked, teasing her.

She smiled. "Normally you aren't there."

He swallowed and looked down to brush off his suit. "Well, we both are ready, why don't we leave? We might as well be fashionably late, but being super late is just improper."

Clary nodded and they both left together, Jace locking the door behind him. Climbing in, their knees and toes banged together and brushed constantly throughout the whole ride, making Clary almost jump every time. It was silent the whole time, Jace refused to look at her and only out the window at the passing countryside.

That gave her a long opportunity to study his entire, perfect being. His hair was effortlessly messily, giving him a rugged look that somehow went well with his expensive, tailored tux. Which he looked fantastic in, of course. His faced turned from her, his jaw was so well defined, Clary fought the urge to run her finger down it. His callused hands were clasped in front him, he looked peaceful.

She had to tell him. No one would know that she told him, as long as he didn't tell anybody…She could trust him. She needed help. Desperately. Someone to tell this little piece of stressful information. "Jace…" He looked to her, his eyes bright, looking almost hopeful. "I need to tell you someth-"

She was interrupted by the driver. "At the border for a portal, Mr. and Mrs. Herondale."

"Thank you….We can talk about this later?" Jace asked, that same look in his eyes.

Clary nodded vigorously.

After being admitted out of Alicante by the guards and through the portal, they appeared in front of a huge, Victorian house, with a huge garden and large white pillars everywhere. Jace offered his arm to her, and she hooked hers with his. All for appearance, right?

Walking through the two grand doors, the couple were almost immediately pounced by the guests. The people there consisted mostly of Downworlders, but Clary recognized two dozen that were Shadowhunter.

Everyone seemed to want to greet the perfect, happy pair, congratulate them on their successful marriage, some hinting on whether or not a third member of the family would be added. Clary almost snorted at those questions. "Not me, but perhaps some other attractive, Shadowhunter mistress." she had wanted to say, but bit her tongue instead, forcing a smile to everyone.

"Ahh, dear Clary Herondale! How long has it been?" came the bouncy, boisterous voice from behind them. She whipped around. "Not stealing all the attention from my guests are you? Because if you were, then I'd personally kick you out into the streets." Magnus greeted Clary with a long hug, his sparkly, gelled hair almost poked her in the eye, but narrowly avoided it when he turned his head.

"It's good to see you too, Magnus." she laughed, eyeing his usual, Magtastic clothing. She wasn't sure how bright orange, tight-fitting dress pants could be pulled off with rainbow colored sequence covering every inch of his dress shirt and it still be considered looking almost classy. Whatever, Magnus was capable of doing anything.

"Is Alec here?" Jace asked, stretching himself above the crowd, trying in vain to find the familiar, dark-headed man.

"Yes, he's somewhere around here. He was talking to Jordan Kyle and Simon for a little while." He pointed in some direction, and Clary, being almost a whole foot shorter than them, stood on her toes trying desperately to know where they were looking at. She sighed when it was apparent that it was physically impossible for her.

"Ah! I see them!" Jace exclaimed, "I believe this is where we part ways, Mrs. Herondale. I need to catch up with my buddies, and you can do what you do best; gossip with your dear friends, tell each other secrets…whatever woman do when they are bored." he said it with so much bitterness, that even Clary couldn't hide how astounded she was; it was clearly written all over face. For a moment she flashed back to the living area in the Institute, mentioning the Blackthorn' betrayal to Kaelie. But he couldn't have known about it; Jonathon told her that no one knew how she had "turned" them in.

Jace stalked off, Magnus staring in shock after him, and Clary hardly sending a glance over her shoulder at him. "Is this some common occurrence between you two?"

"I'm not sure." she replied blandly, searching the room relentlessly for a familiar white-blonde head. The room was crowded with people, all in extravagant dress, except for the dance floor, where couples waltzed.

"Looking for someone?" he asked sharply, suddenly stiffening and backing away from her slowly, looking about to bolt into the crowd.

"Not really…are you okay?"

"….fine…just…remembered something." and at that he disappeared into the crowd. Now she had Magnus running away from her, as well.

She finally found him in a small side room. She sighed with relief. "There you are, I thought you left me here without any help."

"And why would I do that? We are such good friends, after all. I'm the only one who knows _all_ your secrets, after all. Not even your idiot husband sees them all, despite his attempts. _I_ am the _only_ who knows you." he responded, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking at her intently. "I'm the only one you can trust right now

"You are as trustworthy as a snake." she spat at him. "You know nothing about me. " she replied coldly, "Nor do you care about me. Otherwise you wouldn't be making me do this."

"Too true." his smile stretched across his face.

She paused for a minute, pulling away from him, making her skirt rustle quietly. She took a deep breath, a pounding headache started in her temple, creating a dull ache throughout her whole her body. Her voice shook, sounding breathless and strained. "What do I do first?"

**I hope you enjoy the next four chapters. Warning: not as much Clace, but there will be some small Sizzy and Jaia. And one of the chapters will eiether be Jordan's or Simon's POV. I haven't decided. Which one do you think? It won't matter either one, so if I know what you prefer then...yeah, I might write in who ever.**

**-L**


	11. Chapter 11

** I thought for that I hadn't updated for a long time, but it's not even a week yet. This is weird for most of you because I was updating every day for a while. But here it is, in Simon's and Clary's POV (Mostly Simon). There's some more info on The League of The Midnight Flower, and that should be interesting. Also, Simon might be slightly different from himself in TMI, because he's not a daylighter, and hasn't been in a lot of near death experiences (other than being turned into a vampire). Just some things for you to think about.**

**-L**

** Chapter 11 **

"The Midnight Flower is sending a message through Alec Lightwood to Simon and Jordan. I heard them talking about it right before I knocked them out. I'm guessing that it has instructions to _get _instructions." Jonathon paced back and forth in front of Clary, who sat on the couch, one hand kneading her temple.

"_What?_ "

"As in, The Midnight Flower is giving instructions for a meeting, where he will then tell his comrades their plans."

"And why does this matter?"

"Because you are going to find out what it says."

1234567890123456789012345678902345678901234567890123456789012345678901234567890123456789023456789012345678901234567890

Simon nodded towards Jordan, who was still across the room, dancing with Maia. In different circumstances, Simon would've teased him about it, but now, they both must extra careful. Dancing was just one of the many ways to look inconspicuous at a party. Alec would be meeting them any minute, slip the scrap of paper up Simon's sleeve, and then walk away.

The song ended, and Jordan bowed towards Maia and walked briskly to him. "No one's come yet?"

"Not yet."

"I saw Alec disappear with Magnus for a while."

"Well, then they should hurry up-"

"No, not like that. Magnus...he looked really serious. Something was bothering him."

"I don't like this at all. Not one bit. Meeting in public places...really risky." Simon scratched his neck, his eyes darting around the room.

"He said this was one of the only times he could meet. He's apparently been very busy."

This caught his attention. "With what?"

"He didn't say. But I trust him to do whatever is-"

Alec brushed past them suddenly, as silent as the wind. Even Simon almost didn't feel his fingers stick the note up his sleeve. Not even pausing, he drifted off, back into the crowd, his dark head disappearing.

"Well let's see it-" Jordan grabbed at his sleeve, but Simon jerked back.

"Not in public, have we taught you nothing?"

"In certain circumstances, that would be considered highly inappropriate."

Simon grinned. "If you want to take it that-"

"Simon!" a high voice exclaimed. "Oh, it's so good to see you here!"

"Clary!" Simon embraced his friend. Nothing felt better than to hold her then. Her grip would've been suffocating, if he could breathe, of course.

She laughed, pulling away from him. "I saw you only a couple days ago, sorry."

Simon took her hands. "I feel the same way." He said sincerely.

"How about we dance?" she chirped, smiling so brightly it looked painful.

Simon glanced at Jordan, and thought of the note barely hidden against his wrist. But this was Clary. His friend.

This was Clary, a traitor.

A friend and murderer.

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Simon stared at Clary for a few seconds. The gaze started to feel uncomfortable, until he said, "Sure."

He put one hand on her waist, and held her hand in the other. She knew of the note in his sleeve, and wanted to jump him to just get it over with. But that was too easy.

"So...how do you like your new house?"

"The manor?" she snorted. "It's almost too perfect."

"Elaborate?"

"Well, the house is so beautiful, and it's completely empty."

"Then you should fill it up with your bowels."  
_ "What?"_

"You should have kids."

She laughed, her head bowed, clutching his wrist tightly, her fingers groping blindly for the paper but failed at any purchase. She stopped her hysterical fit, composing herself quickly. "I think right now there's a slim chance of that."

"Jace is..."

"The same. Still the same."

Simon felt a sting of pity for Clary, but then tried to erase the feeling. He remembered the news from Jace; Clary had witnessed to a government official that the Blackthorn family was a spy for The Midnight Flower, holding downworlders in their household, etc. Either way a serious crime against the new "Accords." Jace's face was forever imprinted in his mind, the look of betrayal, his wife standing for the complete opposite morals as his. And her friends. He, Simon, was a vampire. He remembered thinking of how Clary could be such a monster; helping her old, shadowhunter friend Jonathon. He eventually forgave her, but he knew Jace didn't trust her at all. So, he still pushed her away.

"I was joking, Clary." He forced a smile. "What else is so bad about it?"

"It's just so...Oh, I don't know. Perfect I suppose, like I said before. There isn't one flaw, not one scratched window, ripped furniture, worn rugs. Everything is in perfect condition."

"And that bothers you..."

"Yes, because everything has a flaw in it. That's just how it is. That's how _nature_ is. Same thing about people."

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The song ended, reminding Clary of her task. She started to turn with him back towards Jordan, but pretended to roll her ankle. "OW!" she let her knees give, and Simon rushed to her.

"Are you alright? What happened?"

She gripped his hand as he lifted her up, but still "limped." "I just rolled my ankle, although, I was asking for it in these heals." She reassured him easily. "Could you just take me to a room? I think I need to get out of this heat for a little bit, and sit down, if that's fine with you."

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Simon nearly jumped at the opportunity, but composed himself just in time. "I would be obliged to help." He said, letting her lean on his arm heavily. She must've stepped on it pretty badly to need that much support.

They found an empty room finally, after walking in on some people multiple times. The room had an empty fire place; the second floor window was ajar, and a large, long table was littered with food and dirty plates. Candelabras were a lit, the only source of light in the room. "Here, sit me down there." She said, pointing to a chair next to one of the candles. She closed her eyes immediately, one hand supporting her head. He turned his back to her and quickly read the note.

**Yes it ended there. You'll see what it says in the next chapter. The next chapter will be very fun, and the next and the next, and DEFINITELY CHAPTER 16...Woohoo, that will be fun. I actually ended up posting this before everyone goes to bed, so I hope you liked it. :D**

**-L**


	12. Chapter 12

**I am so sorry that there's been, like no updates whatsoever, but I just finished my 3****rd**** quarter stuff, and there was SO much homework, and I have a life as well. LIKE THE DIVERGENT MOVIE! THEO JAMES…..GAHHHHHH. Sooo hot let me tell you. And Caleb made me cry, he's so cute and such a great actor! (Ansel Elgort *drool*) But I promise, things should get kind of back to normal, until about the 9-12 of April, and then the 19-24, so those won't be regular at all.**

**-L**

Chapter 12

Even with her eyes closed, Clary knew what Simon was doing. Being a shadowhunter, she almost had a sixth sense; she was hyper aware of every shift of clothes, shuffle of feet, and or habitually tapping of a finger. She felt Simon draw near, his arm almost brushing hers, reaching out toward something on the table. Her eyes flew open just as he set fire the little note, the piece of information that would save her mother, but would be the undoing of the brave mastermind, The Midnight flower. Flinging her hand out, she swiftly grabbed the note out of the very surprised Simon's hand and butted the flaming end of the coiled paper on the mahogany table. Lifting it delicately to her nose she inhaled deeply, almost choking on the ash as she pretended to compose herself.

"Great thinking on your part Simon," she smiled friendly, "How did you know smoke clears one's head from disorientation?"

Simon just gaped at her, his eyes almost popping out of his head. "I…uh…picked it up somewhere…from…Isabelle." He stuttered, glancing around the room, everywhere but her hand.

"Are you all right? You look dreadful."

"No it's just that…you see-"

"Yes?" she coaxed him.

"That note is obviously mine and so if you could-"

And then suddenly he made a wild dash for the note, nearly leaping atop of her. She carelessly flung her arm out, pretending to be surprised, and knocked the candelabra over, the white tablecloth catching fire. "Simon! The table!"

Turning her back to Simon desperately shaking the cloth, she unwound the note, and read the sloppy, fast written letter. The handwriting was recognizably the same as the other containing information on her mother. She skimmed it quickly, knowing that any moment Simon could find her reading it. She twisted around just as he had managed to beat out the flames. She kept one hand behind her back coiling the note back to its former state. She patted his back, "How clumsy of me! Sorry for that. I wreak havoc everywhere I go."

"I'm used to it." Simon grinned, but it faltered when he saw her hand.

"You know, I don't think Isabelle would appreciate you receiving secret love letters behind her back. One second more and I could've opened the thing up and found who it was!" She laughed and walked briskly past him, around the mahogany table and the dishes and food littering the floor from Simon's attempts, toward the back cabinet. A candlestick was still aflame on top of it, and Clary could just barely let the end of the paper rest on the wick. "You're lucky I'm a good friend and won't tell Isabelle, as long as you stop with all these notes. " the note was burning, the little fire starting to consume it. she put it on a silver tray, watching it until it was just a pile of ash.

Simon smiled, "I don't think Isabelle will need to worry anymore."

"Oh? What do you mean-"

But Simon had already left the room, leaving her alone.

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Clary couldn't find Jonathon for almost half an hour. She had finally found him in a small room on the second floor, by himself, snorting snuff up his nose, a habit that she knew he'd had since they were in school. When he saw her he sprung up from the armchair he was lounging in and jumped toward her. "Did you get it?" his dark eyes were lit from excitement.

"Yes, I read the note, but I had to burn it. It mostly said that everyone in the league had to leave somewhere, it didn't specify where, though." Clary felt sick to her stomach.

"Did it say anything about the Midnight Flower?"

"It said that there would be a meeting at midnight, in the parlor on the first floor, where he'll be giving instructions. He'll also be leading the group, though, I guess he changed his mind on that last letter."

"What?"

"As in, the last letter said that he couldn't help with the next rescue, but in this, it said that he'll be leading it."

Jonathon frowned, not saying anything for a while. "do you need anything from me? Will this be enough to burn the note?"

"Once the Midnight Flower is in Idris, then, and only then, will I destroy the evidence of your mother's traitorous acts."

Clary nodded, her insides churning. Everything about this situation went against everything she stood for, believed in. She knew her mother would be furious for doing this, Jocelyn knew the risks, and probably had accepted them bravely. But she was selfish and she couldn't-wouldn't- give up her mother.

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Jonathon came to said parlor just before midnight. A fire was still burning in marble fireplace, slowly dying. One chair faced about twenty, all circled about that one. In the corner of the room were several couches. He laughed, he would capture the whole league this night! Honor and the greatest-

A sound interrupted his thoughts, a deep rumbling noise, coming from one of the couches. He crept toward one, ever cautious and found Jace Herondale, sleeping. His breath even, his mouth slightly open-snoring- he'd obviously been there a long time. "What an idiot." Jonathon said softly, almost a whisper. He lay down on one of the couches, however. Jace had given him an idea, as he got comfortable and pretended to be asleep. He would see the Midnight Flower any moment, any minute. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins, his excitement of finally uncovering the truth of exactly who The Midnight Flower was. Soon…he would know everything.

**Short, yes, but I did it finally! Does everyone understand what happened with the Kaelie and Clary thing, because I can explain it in the next chapter or so, I most likely will be doing a flashback of back then. What are your guesses on who the Midnight Flower is? It's kind of obvious in this chapter, I think. Clary is sometimes just really dumb.**

**-L**


	13. Chapter 13

**Since it's Spring Break out here, I will be updating frequently, so I'm happy, and I hope you are happy.**

**Chapter 13**

Clary felt the world pass around her in a blur. What had she just done? _How_ could she have done that? There were so many things wrong with what had happened. She despised herself; whoever the Midnight Flower was, he was probably the most honorable and compassionate man. And he was there, about to be caught. Because of her. She couldn't help but look around the room, guessing at who it was.

Walking past several old friends, they stopped and complimented her on how beautiful she looked, how lucky she was, how perfect her marriage was…

Ever since she had been engaged to Jace, the crowds always gathered around her at social events. When Jace had acted so awful in the beginning of their marriage, she enjoyed the attention; she was the person everyone wanted to talk to. But that night, she felt impatient, suffocated. She wanted to find Jace and leave immediately.

But she couldn't find him. The second floor was deserted, she knew. She had seen most of the side rooms, and all were empty. Everyone was in this one room, crowded together. She waved at the smiles people gave her as she gathered her skirt and walked faster.

**Simon**

"She knows," he whispered, "She had the note at one point, but I don't know if she read it or not."

His leader nodded, contemplating and thoughtful. "We'll have to mix things up, then." he grinned, straightening his position before lounging in the chair he was sitting in.

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The plans were all detailed, everything perfect. Nothing overlooked. Simon shook his head, his brain overloaded. He and Jordan left the designated meeting place side by side. His friend was surveying the room, looking for something, or, in particular, someone. He laughed. "She's over there, talking to the werewolf."

Jordan found Maia, his eyes widening. "Why is she talking to him?"

"Is she not allowed to talk to others of our sex?"

"No, she isn't." Jordan said resolutely, before cracking a grin.

"You'll have to keep her in the basement, chained to the floor."

"Then rip the man's throat to shreds if he even looks at her."

"Then you'll-"

Simon was cut off from someone short and red barreling into him. Clary.

"Are you all right? Hey, Clary?" she didn't respond when he grabbed her arm. Her eyes had that far off look to them, a little misty and too bright. "Clary?"

She blinked several times. "Have you seen Jace?"

"Not recently, no."

She sighed. "I need to go home now."

"_You need to_?"

"Yes…So?"

Jordan cleared his throat. "No reason." he replied suspiciously, he never had trusted Clary.

"We'll ask around for you" Simon cut in, genuinely concerned. "You looked a little dazed." pulling her onto one of the many sofas that had been pushed to the far sides of the room.

"Thanks." she muttered, one hand propping her up from where elbows rested on her knees.

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"Jace" he hissed, he didn't want to wake whoever it was on the other couch. "Your wife needs you." he shook his arm before Jace groggily got up, wiping at his eyes and stretching dramatically.

"My wife always needs me." he yawned, wiggling his eyes at Simon. "that's why I'm always so tired."

"I'm sure that's the reason." Simon replied dully, rolling his eyes.

He pulled up Jace, who stumbled, but righted himself. They turned, facing whoever it was on the couch. "Who's-"

"I'll tell you later. Shut up for now." Simon nodded silently, who remained that way as they zigzagged through the meeting place. There hadn't been many men who had shown up, half were out on missions.

He looked at Jace expectantly as they reached the brilliant, gold tinted ballroom. "That was Jonathon Morgenstern."

"What is he doing here?" Simon exclaimed.

"I'm thinking the same thing. He was at my house with Clary….alone for almost two hours."

_"What?"_

"I had to leave the house for the meeting, and I had to get out somehow, so I got her angry and made her yell at me, and then I stormed out." Jace sighed, his body very tense, his hands raking his hair."I got back to my house and his carriage…..was there-the Morgenstern insignia is right over the door. They were in there…I don't even know what they were doing…" he breathed in deeply, trailing off. "And then I hear them in a private room, together again tonight, talking about finding the Midnight Flower, and other things…"

"Jace-"

"How could she do this?" he practically yelled, throwing his hands up "I…I've done everything I could. I almost started to believe that she felt guilty, _almost_ forgave her. The Angel knows I want to. Three years is enough to change a person. But she does _this_! How can she still be helping-or whatever!-with him? How can I ever trust her?" Jace collapsed in sofa, his face in his hands, breathing deeply. "How can I stop loving her?"

Simon blinked. "You can't tell her now, can you?"

"Never."

**AHHHH, What was he going to tell her? Find out next chapter….haha, nope, just kidding, switching POVs again to Jonathon. Do you all hate Jace now? Do you all hope Clary gets another love interest, do you all hope they get a divorce, or do you see both sides of the story, mostly both sides. This was just a few built up feelings from Jace. And I'm hoping you all know who the Midnight Flower is by now. What are your guesses?**

**Review and FAVORITE,**

**-L**


	14. Chapter 14

**WOW, my story has been up for over a month! This is so cool! In honor of a belated anniversary, review, follow, AND favorite!**

**Chapter 14**

**Jonathon **

The kink in his neck was growing, as was his impatience for the meeting to begin. But he dared not shift his position, just as he would not leave the room. The idiot still slept, lightly snoring, completely oblivious to everything around him. He turned his head ever so slightly to see the clock: 12:20. Twenty minutes past the time The Midnight Flower had called for.

A growing suspicion began to form in the pit of his stomach, dread and intense anger. His vision almost turned red from his rage. Jonathon was just about to storm out, attack something, werewolf or vampire, it didn't matter, when someone crept into the room. His body stiffened as the man glanced his way, brushing past him and walking toward Jace, still sound asleep on the couch. He shook him awake. Jonathon recognized the voice of Simon Lewis, vampire and best friend of the Herondales'. "Jace," he whispered loudly, "Your wife needs you."

Jace stretched, his joints cracking. "My wife always needs me. That's why I am always tired."

"I'm sure that's the reason." He replied dryly. he looked pointedly at Jonathon. "Who's-"

"I'll tell you later. Shut up for now."

They left the room quickly, Simon supporting Jace, their silhouettes disappearing into the bright, rambunctious ballroom. Doubt filled his mind, and he felt himself get up and follow them, despite the chance that he would miss the Midnight Flower meeting. They wove themselves quickly in the crowd; Jonathon kept his eyes on the back of Jace's head, he was close enough to hear snid bits of their conversation. "...Jonathon Morgenstern...at my house...alone." Jace sounded angry, or even better:heart broken. He grinned to himself. Any discomfort that he made Jace feel, jealousy even, he relished in it. After all, he'd stolen Clary away from him.

They paused in front of him, sitting down on one of the plush sofas. "...You can't tell her now, can you?"

Jonathon frowned. What were they going to tell her? "Never."

"Were you still going to tell her even after the stunt she pulled with the note?"

"I thought maybe she was curious, but she told...him," he spat him as if it was the worst insult he could think of. "And now I can't risk it, we can't risk telling her the truth."

"Are you ready to meet tomorrow?"

Jace paused before answering. "If I escape the claws of my wife. She'll be pestering me tonight, I can feel it."

"I'll tell the Midnight Flower you might be late for your post."

"No...no I think I'll be able to do it." At this point, Jonathon was so yearning to know what they were talking about, that the mentioning of The Midnight Flower he just about pulled out his blade and threatened them at sword point. But he resisted the urge and pretended to be looking at the dancing pairs, nodding at a few women who winked at him. "I'll distract her somehow."

Simon whispered something to Jace, and he chuckled and then smirked. "I'll try that."

"Are you going to go to Clary?"

Jace's voice hardened. "I think…that she's just fine." he gestured toward where she was sitting. Her back was straight, her hands clasped on her lap, looking up as she laughed and smiled to a tall dark headed man. He wore an expensive tailored suit, and a few black runes were exposed on his hands and neck. He held his hand out to her, and she nodded, taking it. They disappeared with the rush of the song and dance.

As the conversation turned to words of consolation for Jace, Jonathon left their company, hearing everything he needed to.

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**Simon**

"Do you think he heard all of that?" Simon glanced behind him, where the Shadowhunter had left.

"More importantly, did he believe all of it?"

Simon brushed his shoulders cockily. "I consider myself an excellent actor."he grinned.

Jace leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Make sure you get to your post on time in a week. I'll be getting a couple Downworlders tomorrow night, but nothing is more important than getting Luke Garroway. Nothing."

"Understood."

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**Clary  
**

She needed to distract herself. Maia was flirting with Jordan, she hadn't seen Isabelle the whole night, and only the Angel knew where her husband was. Probably off sucking on some woman's face. So when Sebastian showed up, she was more than obligated. The orchestrated song was slow, and Sebastian's hand was clasped in hers, and the other too low on her hip. She felt extremely uncomfortable in another man's arms. But she willed herself to be; when was the next time someone wanted to affectionately touch her?

"So, you still married to Herondale, right?" Sebastian questioned.

Clary smiled. "Yes." Though she wasn't happy, she had to keep up the "happy couple" image.

"Still a jerk?"

"Yes." she laughed. Sebastian and Clary had gone to the academy together. Though they had never been friends, they had been on a couple of non-serious dates. "What have you been doing since graduation?"

"I've been in Paris lately."

"Paris? Oh, you're so lucky!" she exclaimed. " Say something in French."

" Tu es superbe ce soir."

"And what does that mean?"

"You look beautiful tonight."

"Oh…um…Sebastian…you know that I-I'm married…to Jace...Jace Herondale...He would pummel you if you even so much as touch me."

"I'm doing that right now." he said, a smirk growing. Just to prove his point, his grip tightened on her waist, and then suddenly spun her in a dramatic circle. Clary could feel her cheeks coloring.

"I heard you've been in New York."

"Yes, but that's not nearly as glamorous as _Paris_"she hit his chest playfully. She mentally slapped _herself_. Hitting of one's chest was considered flirting. And she couldn't flirt, not when she was married…married to a man who was cheating _on her_.

"Well, it hasn't been for me. I've had to deal with Idris guardscoming to kidnap a bunch of Downworlders." he continued.

"Did they get away with it?"

"A couple. Camille Belcourt got caught, and her execution is in a couple of days."

"Oh dear! All these deaths in Idris. I wish the conclaves and the enclaves would do something about it!"

"I think they're all too scared, with Valentine in charge and his son in control of the police. Jonathon's brought more than a hundred Downworlders to Idris and executed, along with dozens of rebel Shadowhunter families."

At this, Clary felt sick, so sick, she felt bile burning its way up her throat. "Clary? Are you okay? You look a little green."

She blinked rapidly and shook her head. The Blackthorn family was brought up to mind. All their sweet, little children, burned at the stake just because her mouth slipped to the wrong person. And then her mother. Her mother knew who the Midnight flower was-in league with him. And her own daughter was helping Jonathon Morgenstern to find and kill the Midnight Flower. The only hope left for their world. And she was trying to kill him. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. If it had been anyone but her mother. Anyone but the only one who loved her, she wouldn't have betrayed everything she believed in.

"I'm fine," she forced out. The dizziness was lessening now, and Sebastian's blurry face refocused into concern. "yeah, I'm good."

"It's fine you know, we have the Midnight Flower to fix everything." he smiled good-naturally.

And at that, Clary collapsed.

**I gave you a long chapter, so that means more reviews from everybody! Sooo, Jace and Simon are very trixy…what was truth and what was fake? And poor Clary…the guilt got to her. Don't worry, I think this is the only time she faints in this story, but if it does happen one more time, I promise it won't happen again. I can't stand it when she faints or cries like, every chapter. I just can't...Clary is a strong character, stop making her super weak!**

**Because of several requests, even from earlier chapters, I put another love interest for Clary, whom is about to be beat up by Jace in the next chapter. And then after that is chapter SIXTEEN! YES, I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWARD TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER THE WHOLE STORY! You'll love it, I know you all will.  
**

**Love with best wishes, **

**-L**


	15. Chapter 15

**Last few chapters have been receiving awesome reception, so I ask all of you to keep up the good work. Follow, Review and Favorite!**

**And another thing that I need to clear up: The whole revolution thing is in Idris, not at all the Institutes, and they don't agree with it at all, so you can only guess that The Midnight Flower is in an Enclave/Conclave. And these establishments do not follow the rules of the new "Accords" so to speak. So they don't agree with all the killing of the Downworlders.**

**Oh! and did you see I changed the Summary. What are your opinions of it?**

**-L**

**Chapter 15 **

Clary loved everything. Her life was so perfect at the time. Her marriage ceremony was coming up in a month, Jace was guaranteed the New York institute, her mother was getting married to Luke in the next year or so…things were finally looking up for her. The door bell rung, and Clary rushed to fetch it, gliding effortlessly down the staircase of the Fairchild Manor. The door opened to reveal Kaelie, a good acquaintance of hers, whom she had met through her best friend, Jonathon. "Hello Kaelie!" she beamed. "I'm so glad you could come."

Kaelie flashed her flawless smile and replied, "I'm so glad you invited me."

Clary led her up to their sitting room, where they began talking ecstatically, about almost everything. The revolution had just finished, leaving everything completely different- that according to Jonathon, was a good thing. The Clave was corrupt, not fulfilling the purpose of Shadowhunters, so he said. There were a few Downworlders killed in the beginning, but soon over the months, the massacres had increased rapidly.

"So, have you heard anything about The Midnight flower? I'm completely isolated out here. I wish I were back home." she asked Kaelie, wanting to know. The gossip said that he lived somewhere outside of Alicante. And for Clary, that meant somewhere far away.

"There is so much to tell! Where do I start?" she exclaimed. "Let's see? Well, he's created this huge group of resisters, all male of course," she rolled her eyes, "and they've been rescuing the Downorlders out of Idris. He's got little assignments for everybody, all of them working like machine."

"That's pretty incredible."

"It is…And then there are his informants; he'll ask Shadowhunter families to hold refugees, or help in some way."

Clary immediately thought of what Jace had said to her one time concerning a certain family that had done the same thing. "Like the Blackthorns." she muttered to herself.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." Kaelie asked leaning forward. There was a strange look in her eye that Clary didn't think much of.

"I…Nothing. It's not important." Clary shook her head and put on a fake smile. "What else were you saying?"

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Clary felt suffocated from everyone surrounding her, coming in from all sides. Constant questions making her more confused and dizzy as she tried to focus sitting up.

"Are you all right?'

"What happened, Clary?"

"You look sick…" Like she needed to be told that.

"Someone go get Jace."

This she broke out of her stupor. "No, It's fine. I just…well, I'm not sure completely, but I'm okay now. You can all take a couple steps back too, if you want." They backed up, and she identified Simon and Isabelle, Maia and Jordan, Jonathon in the distance, his face fully neutralized, and of course, Sebastian. He put his hand on her shoulder, "You just randomly past out when we were dancing. Are you sure you're fine?"

Clary nodded, taking his hand to help her stand. His hand stayed where it was. She cleared her throat. "I used to do that a lot when I was younger…nothing serious." Simon narrowed his eyes at her. She never fainted, and he knew that. "If you could just inform Jace that-"

"What did you do to my wife?" Jace came rushing in, his shoulders bumping others rudely, pushing people out of the way. His gaze immediately fell on Clary, his eyebrows crinkled adorably with worry.

"How many times do I have to say that I'm fine?" Clary half laughed and half exclaimed. But Jace ignored her. Instead he walked to Sebastian, his eyes narrowed with suspicion and his arms crossed.

"You were the one dancing with her, weren't you?"

"And if I was?" Sebastian replied defiantly.

"Well, Verlac-Stay away from my wife." Jace spat, "Or you'll be sorry."

"Since when has been she been your property? I had no idea you were so…."

"So what?" Jace demanded. They were both in each other's faces, and Clary could tell Jace was barely restraining himself. His hands were balled up, his body tense and straining.

"So," he drew out, "Possessive. No wonder Clary is so desperate enough to throw herself on any man that's breathing. No woman likes to be treated like a _thing_."

"Sebastian, please don't." Clary pleaded. "This is ridiculous! Jace isn't-"

"Right! I've also heard that you're cheating on her. Is that true?" Sebastian grinned hostilely. "It takes a coward to betray your wife like that. Tell me….How long has it been going on?"

"Sebastian, that's none of your business." Clary said lowly, cuttting in before Jace could say anything.

"Ah, so it's true!" Sebastian exclaimed.

Clary looked desperately at Jace. A crowd was growing at the skeptical they had created. If Sebastian said anything else, their reputation would be ruined. Jace stared back at her, long and hard. He put his arm around her, pulling her into him. "We don't have to answer to you." he replied quietly, dangerously.

And at that, they turned around, _together_, and had almost left him when he shouted, "Seems fitting though, the Playboy and the Gold Digger married. Maybe you both deserve what you got."

Jace froze, his muscle's tense. She was forced to stop with him, and she could tell he was waiting for something. She naturally put laid her hand on his chest, gazing assuredly at him. "You have my permission to go beat him up if you want to." she whispered to Jace, grinning wickedly. Jace returned her smile and withdrew his arm from her shoulder.

"With pleasure." And with that he ran, barreling into Sebastian, punching his gut repeatedly. Sebastian, completely caught off guard, could barely pull Jace off him, let alone defend himself. Maybe this was easier than she had thought. Of course, she was married to Jace Herondale, the richest, the most famous, _the best_ Shadowhunter of their time. It was expected that he could beat his enemies into pulp.

Clary didn't deny her pleasure in watching the fight, but she started to feel uneasy when Jace kept pounding into him, even when he was close to unconsciousness.

"Well, what do we have here?" Magnus called out from behind her, Jace kept at what he was doing, but several in the gathering crowd backed off nervously.

"Magnus, make him stop." she pleaded.

He sighed, but grinned while doing so. He snapped his fingers, little blue sparks of magic burst from his fingertips. there was a loud bang, and suddenly, Sebastian wasn't there, a large, pink pig lay sprawled in his place. It looked terribly confused and scared, and everyone in the crowd burst out laughing.

Jace quickly averted his eyes to Clary, a little sheepish. Clary wiped tears out of her eyes from her laughter and beckoned him toward her. He listened, and Clary felt little torrents of pleasure go through as she looked at him up and down. They'd been together as a team for the first time since their marriage.

Nothing felt better than that moment. Not physical touch or consoling words, it was the sense of having him there with her, to stand beside her. And that was what she had been so deprived from, had been missing. To have a friend.

Her hands brushed his biceps, his immediately rested on her waist. Their gazes held each other with longing- no, yearning. Clary felt like she was in a dream; a good dream, but a dream nevertheless. Not real, a figment. And she understood why when those awful words were spoken.

"Should we kiss?"

Clary stared in astonishment, her mouth gaping open. Tyhe very thought of it...

"For the image." Jace rushed, looking away from her, looking slightly pained.

The fact that she so desperately wanted to meet her lips with his, regardless of the attention; and that he, Jace, only wanted to kiss her for show made her want to slap him. But restraining herself from hitting him, she detached herself from those golden arms, and looked into those blazing, gold eyes, she replied like she had two nights before to his offer in the bedroom.

Short and curtly, she said, "No."

**Ahhhh they were so close! Why must Jace always say something awful? But they were acting like a married couple finally. Being each other's allies. I think when this story is done, I'll definitely do a bunch of chapters in Jace's POV. He knows almost everything. Even who the Midnight Flower is. He is just ignorant of one thing. And that one thing is his downfall. And it's very interesting to see what he's thinkng. He's a pretty awesome character.**

**Make sure you favorite, follow and review!**

**-L **


	16. Chapter 16

**AHHHHHHHHH ITS FINALLY HERE! CHAPTER SIXTEEN! Have fun….**

**Also…You are all amazing! Last chapter had the record of 11 reviews, thanks to all!**

**Answering question**

**yoyoyo: You'll have to find out ;D**

**-L**

**Chapter 16**

**Jonathon**

He was such a fool. How could he have not seen it? The Midnight Flower's identity…He was there the whole time. It was almost too obvious…How could he have not seen it?

**Clary**

After the taking care of the pig, many of the guests had all seemed to accept the same thing: the party was obviously over. Jace still stood close by Clary's side, but he felt all too distant at the same time. Most of the guests were herding to the front doors and vanishing with the portal Magnus had opened up, or their own magic. She kept poking her head up, standing on her tip toes, trying in vain to see a certain Blonde head. She had to find out whether or not her mother's life was secure or not.

She spotted him, glaring out a window, his jaw quivering.

"Come along, Darling. We should be getting back to the house." Jace suggested, tugging playfully on her dress strap.

"Wait one moment. I have to speak to someone about something." Clary fast walked toward Jonathon. She could feel Jace's eyes on the back of her head the whole time, glaring a whole straight through it. When she reached Jonathon, she glanced behind her, to find Jace leaving, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled up into fists. He looked over at them, and she managed to catch eyes with him. At first, they looked to be filled with anger, but then that swiftly changed to coldness, unfeeling washed them over. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows, his body relaxing from its previous strained state. Showing he obviously didn't care anymore.

"Did you find everything you needed?" she asked in a hushed tone, arms hugging herself and looking down at the floor. She felt too ashamed of what she had just done, to look him in the eye at that moment. This was her way of saying: you won, and I surrendered without a fight.

"Yes," she could almost hear him smirking, "everything is…..perfect."

"Then I trust you'll burn the evidence?"

Jonathon clucked his tongue. "You know our agreement, Clary. Only when I have The Midnight Flower in Idris, only then will I give you the evidence."

Clary sighed. "Well-"

"Clary, dear. You might want to go, your husband is sending me a death glare."

"Could you tell me who then? Who is it?"

Jonathon laughed, throwing his head back. "No...that will make it less...surprising. I can't wait to see your face when you do find out." He glanced at Jace behind her shoulder. "Really, you should go."

Clary clutched her sash around her; despite the warmth of the late evening, no-early morning- she felt bitterly cold. Her feet seemed to drag as she stepped. She felt like she was doing the walk of shame, though no one knew it but her. She felt like her high morals had been trampled on, and thrown in the dust of a well traveled road. Left lying among the rest of the garbage littering the side.

"Let's go then." she told Jace in a monotone voice. Their arms hooked, normally she would've been delighted, reveling in it, but now it felt like dead weight, holding her back. They both stepped into the portal, thinking hard on where the carriage was. She thought for a moment, of all the places that she could imagine, and get away from her life, her troubles, her husband. She opened her eyes, the moon was bright, but lower in the sky. By the time they would reach the manor, the sun would start to rise, and hopefully splash color on her dull life.

The border control jumped up. "Mr. and Mrs. Herondale?"

Jace only nodded. The driver had left, so Jace hopped up on the driving seat, taking the reins in his hands. "Pull the cover down, darling, and then we won't be so alone." Clary almost laughed as he helped her up. Never had she ever felt so alone, so isolated.

They drove in silence, as usual. Jace had a devil in his hands, urging the horses to push themselves, causing even a small hump in the road to jostle them out of the carriage. She glanced at him once or twice; admiring his God-given looks. The hard jaw, shapely lips, angular cheekbones…he was perfect on the outside at least. She felt a sudden sympathy for her husband. A heart-broken father and half crazy mother, though he never mentioned it, he must've been neglected as a boy. Alone. Surely…..maybe he had once felt this awful emptiness.

The actions she had just done tonight-she desperately wanted to confide in him. But he would hate and despise her even more. Had someone told her a week ago that she would betray an honest, brave leader- savior- and spy on her friends, she would've laughed in their faces.

But she had done all those things, and she couldn't deny them. Of course, she would never, _never_ admit it to anyone, as well.

The waning moon cast odd shadows on the path before them as they stopped in front of the grand manor. The breezy summer air called to her, speaking of freedom and truth, calling her away from the door of her house, where the whole household waited for them. She drifted off to the side of the house, going a little past the orchard and into the little forest, only stopping because of a gurgling stream.

In the distance, she saw two lights on in the house, one for each of their separate rooms. She sighed, starting to walk toward the house, quiet surrounding her completely. Clary suffered an eternal heart ache. She felt sorry for herself even. Her situation was one that was not ignorable, she couldn't escape it. She felt the sudden urge to run, run away as far as she could from this life, like she had with the portal. She needed counsel and comfort, both too far away to reach. She wondered vaguely if she would sleep at all that night.

She had just emerged from the rows of apple trees, when she saw Jace, wandering through them as well. He obviously hadn't notice her, lost in his own thoughts, his hands shoved deep in his tux, his hair shining, looking like some surreal being. He was making his way to the terrace, his hand on the banister.

"Jace!"

He spun around to face her, one foot still on the first step, his demeanor and body language obviously showing that he sought nothing more but to leave, not wanting to be there at all.

"Your servant, Mrs. Herondale." he said dramatically, mockingly bowing low to her.

"It's beautiful tonight, is it not?" she said quickly. "The air is fresh, and the moonlight perfect. Would it harm you to stay with me for a few moments?"

"I think it's best to leave you alone, where it will be much more enjoyable without me." he said stiffly, turning to go.

'I'm tired of being alone!" she raised her voice at him. He stopped, his back still to her. She walked toward him, just a little. "It wasn't me who brought this separation in our relationship, if you remember."

"Sorry then, for my short memory." he cut in coldly. He turned around, looking her straight in her eyes. The usual contempt stare that had arisen whenever he so much as glanced her way was for a moment returned to him, before she hopelessly softened her eyes, not able to help herself. She came up close to him, to the foot of the steps, less than a foot away.

"The shortest." she said softly, looking him up and down. "Was it five or six years ago when you first saw me, and two years later you still could not forget me?"

He looked at her tenderly for a spare few seconds before shutting down to frigid stiffness. His hand gave him away though, clenching the banister, turning white. "You wanted me in your company. I hope it was not the purpose of exchanging affectionate memories. "

His coldness would've normally been returned with coldness, but tonight with the desperation and passion she was feeling-she felt it more of an instinct to be gentle than rude. She held her hand out to him, breaking the barrier of space between them. "Why not stay in the past a little, the present isn't too grand right now. Why have something bitter when we can have something we both want?"

He took her cold hand in his, kissing each finger of her white, soft hand tenderly and long.

"And how do you know that I want that?" he said, not really a question. He turned shakily to leave, less resilient to go.

"Jace?" she called once again, her voice breathy from his actions from before.

"Always in your service, Mrs. Herondale." he replied turning again.

She paused before speaking, taking another step toward him. "Do you believe that love could possibly die?" she asked, her voice considerably quieter. "I thought that the passion of your love would outlast lifetimes…Is there any left for you to forgive this…separation…between us at all?"

His body stiffened impossibly more, his mouth hardening. "And to what purpose?" he nearly shouted at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Please understand me then. Would you like to renew your sport of me as your slave, your pet to show around to all your friends…like tonight? I've given you everything…my devotion, my love, my commitment. And you've easily kicked aside with your careless actions.

At this he grasped his hand into her hair, pulling out the elegant due, the wave tickling her bare shoulders. She took another step toward him, they were nearly pressed up against each other. He was bent down, almost level to her short frame.

"Jace…please," her voice shook, "Can we forget about the past?"

He laughed with no humor staining his voice. "I thought that you wanted to live in the past, dear."

"Not that past! I mean the time when we both loved each other."

Jace spoke slowly. "Are you saying that I'm…you…we don't love each other?"

Clary took in a deep breath. "I-I don't know."

Jace shook his head, completely unrelieved. "A week after our marriage, I heard about the death of the whole Blackthorn family. Did you think I hadn't heard about it? From strangers I heard stories that you had turned them in…"

"And you believed them and not your wife?" she asked, astounded. "You believed them over the person you vowed you loved more than life itself? Didn't you say that to me once?" she laughed bitterly. "How romantic and meaningless…I tried to tell you, so many times. But my pride closed my mouth when the fire of your love for me was snuffed out like the same fire that burned the Blackthorns. I tried…I tried everything in my power-" her voice wavered, and she knew it would crack soon and make her burst into tears. She tried to regain her composure. "How foolish of me to believe I had a few friends in this world. I was a fool, Jace. So, so stupid and naïve. I was tricked by Jonathon, I accidentally revealed, mentioned really, what they were doing, and he jumped on it."

Jace just stared at her, a intensity building in his eyes that made her realize. She had hoped that his love for her had just remained dormant and hadn't disappeared. But she saw now that the passion still lived, blazing and as big as ever. It was shown through an occasional soft glance, small, stolen touches that hopefully kept him awake as long as she. "And now…" she gasped, his eyes so intense, she felt her heart's pace quicken. "My mother, she's in danger, Jace. I can't do this by myself. I…I need your help." she felt relieved to get that off her chest.

"I find it hard to go back on the past, Mrs. Herondale. I've been waiting…all this time for some.." he choked out, his hand grabbing her waist, clinging to her like a life line, his grip sending jolts throughout her whole body. "Some explanation. Any at all. You've kept me from this truth…for years. Can you even imagine what I've been thinking? Wondering what you were. I wanted to hate you, but there's nothing to stop it. I can't not love you. Even if you were a monster, or a murderer. If you thought I would show you, reward you for what you did and not explain it, then you must be crazy. I can't blindly give my love to you, for you."

"I fancied to test your love for me," she laughed mirthlessly. She looked at their feet, their toes touching. His hand reached for her chin, pulling it gently up to see his gorgeous face. His eyes searched her face relentlessly. "You used to tell me that every breath you take was for me."

"I still mean it. But you thought I would give my love against my honor?" his body relaxed, his hand releasing her chin only to stroke her cheek tenderly and cup her neck, his thumb brushing her skin just below her stretched jaw. "You demand of me to have no consciousness, no objection to your actions? As submissive as a slave? I was waiting for you to give one-an explanation- anything and I would've believed it. I thought maybe you loved me as much as I loved you, my heart…is yours still overflowing with love…like mine is?

He sucked in a breath, his body trembling from his words. His words always sounded so good, but now, they were poetic. Clary felt breathless; there wasn't enough air. He loved her! He loved her still! Her heart sang practically. She shook her head. "How insane and unchecked is my pride, Jonathon?...But we came back from the honeymoon, you had a-a mask, playing someone who...who was not you- that pushed me away from you. That mask of frigid, icy cold that you reserve just for me."

They were so close, her hair breezed across his face, brushing his high, prominent cheekbones. He sucked in a breath, their words saying nothing about their emotions. She reached to tangle her fingers through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to her. In a moment of unchecked desire, he somehow had switched them to where Clary was pressed up against the banister, his body connecting to every part of hers. She felt him everywhere, their passion keeping them together, but both their pride keeping them just maddeningly apart.

"No…it is not a mask, Mrs. Herondale. For years it has been a plaything that you toss quickly aside once alone."

But Clary knew better. Everything that had happened to her tonight, she knew he could fix somehow. He wouldn't rest until it was solved .This man that loved her unconditionally.

"Jonathon, I asked you to…stay here tonight…" she struggled with revealing her wrongs, her pride still in the way of telling the whole truth. "I'm in trouble, and I…I need your help…and you forgiveness."

"And it is all yours." he replied dully, his face inching away from hers. She wanted to pull his head down, and they would crash together like they used to, their lips bruising from pressure, not having a care in the world other than each other.

She stared intently at him. "Funny how once…if I even shed a tear you would kiss it away and go half crazy from worry. Am I that important to you now?"

"Tell me then, darling," he replied, his voice wavering, "What do you need?"

"My mother…a letter was found about how she was helping the Midnight Flower…and now, she is danger of being arrested. He-Jonathon-won't arrest her yet, but now, after tonight, I'm not sure of anything. I have no one…no one I can turn to…for anything. Everyone thinks I'm awful, a murderer." she managed to choke out. She felt tears coming, of shame and despair. They fought through her eyes, no matter how hard she tried.

At the mentioning of the letter, Jace turned white, his eyes widening, his grip tightening on her reflexively. As more tears rolled down her face, he glanced a look down to her lips, feeling sympathetic. He licked his own before saying, "Woman, you know I can never stand to watch you cry. Should never happen on such a pretty face." he lifted her chin to meet his eyes, his breath pushing back stray hairs across her face.

"Tell me then," he said breathlessly, "How can I help you?"

"Can you…I don't know, help Jocelyn. You have so many friends, and power."

"How about you ask you Morgenstern friend? He's Valentine's first hand man, isn't he?"

"No!...no, I can't ask him. He's the one who put the price for my mother's head…I simply…can't…"

She would've told right then, about everything that had happened that night, her treachery to the Midnight Flower and her friends, and…herself. But after his proclamations of his love to her, she couldn't make anymore confessions. She didn't-couldn't-disappoint him, not when she had just won him back. He might not understand, or sympathize.

She looked at him. He was leaning I even more closer than before. His gaze held longing, hope. He looked innocent, which wasn't a word that normally described him. In fact, probably had never been an adjective that ever described him.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll make sure Jocelyn is safe. I assure you she'll be fine. It is getting late, or rather early…"

"Thank you, Jace. Thank you…so, so much."

He looked at her long and hard, covertly glancing down at her parted lips, both of them knowing what they wanted. He pulled back from her hastily,an arms distance away, too far away for Clary's taste.

He ran his hands through his hair. He half smiled. "I haven't done anything yet. Wait till I have your mother back here. And then you can show me how grateful you are. " he smirked, but the excitement from before was gone, or hidden at least.

The sun was already risen, Clary completely oblivious to it. Maybe she had been confused between love and pride, or hate even. She looked at him, rigid again and almost sighed of exasperation. His pride had won out, maybe he didn't care enough of her. They were all just words. Birds had started to twitter, nature awakening. but pride had built a barrier between the two, and neither of them would make the first move to break it.

"Goodnight then." she said indignantly. She held out her hand, and he kissed it, holding his lips to her skin a second or two longer than needed. She closed her eyes and walked up the steps, putting one hand on the banister. She opened the door and walked up the steps to her room like in a dream, before throwing herself on her bed, wondering how on earth she would ever fall asleep now.

**TADDA! wasn't that amazing? I though so too. longest chapter in this story, so please leave all your Clace filled thoughts and insanities in the review box below. Because I think I deserve it, even though I did give this to you a day late. But I wanted to make it perfect with no mistakes and reread it over and over again and see it as a reader. Because this is what I had been looking forward to the WHOLE time, 15 chapters ago. I wrote this fanfic specifically because of this chapter. The chapter in the book is so devastating, and so I ope you get what went down, because in the book it's really complex.  
**

**One THING PLEASE READ: Jace's pride is what he mentioned in before. She didn't take his love or him seriously, and she doesn't really talk about it at all, because maybe she doesn't want to because she's ashamed. That's one of the things you miss as reading only her POV. The whole thing with the Blackthorns happened and he got really upset obviously. He wanted her to tell him, and that only assured him even more that maybe she didn't love him at all.**

**-L**


	17. Chapter 17

**So, you won't believe what my sister did to me! For April Fools, she said the 1st chapter of COHF was out which I fell for, rolling around on the ground in excitement. And then she told me…so we are about half way through! Thanks to all who sent lovely reviews. **

**PS: I'm sorry for whoever it was that cried, I didn't mean to!  
**

**READ PLEASE: ******Because there was less people who favorite, I'm going to make a deal with you. **If you favorite or follow the STORY then I will give you a snippet from the nineteenth chapter, because I know you all want to know who MF is.**

**-L**

**Chapter 17**

The window was wide open, letting in wide rays of sunlight in her bedroom. Clary had received little to no sleep that night due to her anxiety and restlessness. On her balcony, she could see that the backyard was completely deserted, the terrace bare. She thought of how it felt to be pushed up against the little iron railings, with Jace touching her everywhere. She almost sighed at the memory before going upstairs the two flights and walked into the kitchen, a little breathless. She hadn't exercised in several weeks and she was sure her Shadowhunter skills were suffering because of it.

The kitchen was empty, but someone had restocked the fridge while they had been gone. She gathered ingredients for pancakes and prepared the recipe that she had always done with her mom. She wasn't sure why, but as she was pouring circles of batter on her griddle, tears started to stream from her eyes.

The emotions were overpowering,; anger at Jace for pushing her away, guiltiness for not telling Jace the truth in the very beginning and not telling him the night before (perfect timing, too), even more intense anger at Jonathon for setting her up, lonely because everyone either didn't trust her or hated her, basically, the only word that described the mix up, mash up of her feelings was depression. She flipped the golden brown pancakes onto two different plates and dug in.

Or maybe it was how sentimental she felt from the memories of making pancakes with her mother. Clary went with the latter. "I can't accept defeat" she thought over and over. But a little voice sounded; a voice that reminded her of Jonathon, "You already did, you already did."

Furiously wiping away her tears, she heard someone step onto the tiled flooring of the room. Thinking it was Jace, she turned quickly, saying, "I made pan-" but she stopped speaking when she saw who it was. The maid from her first day was standing in the threshold, quietly holding her hands in front of her.

"Mr. Herondale isn't here, Ma'am." she stated, head bowed.

"What do you mean?" she felt near the edge of hysteria. He was back to his old ways, despite whatever he had promised the night before. He really didn't care about her anymore.

"He left early this morning, shortly after you two arrived."

So he had left after speaking to her. "When will he be back?"

"He told me tonight…late." she replied, eyeing her wearily. Great, not even the servants trusted her.

Clary sighed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She wanted to go back to bed. Really, really badly. But instead, "Could you show me the practice room?"

The girl smiled, "Of course. Follow me."

She led her down grand, elaborate-all golden of course- hallways and rooms, past what seemed like hundreds of spare, empty halls. She found that on the 5th floor, there was a monstrous dining room, the circular, walnut tables covered in white cloths still. She closed her eyes and imagined what it must have looked like here when there were parties, how beautiful and full and inviting the place must've been. Guest rooms always had someone in them, friends always there, hundreds of Shadowhunters crowded in this delightful house.

Someone pulled at her arm "Madame?"

Her eyes flew open. "Yes?"

"You just about walked into a wall…are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She smiled. "Just daydreaming."

"I can see that." The girl said, trying not to laugh. "The stairs are just up the next hallway. Turn right and you'll be there."

"Thank you. You can continue…er…with whatever you do."

She nodded, bowed her head and curtsied, and walked off, hands clasped in front of her, occasionally turning her head to look at her curiously, or untrustfully. Clary couldn't tell. Once the maid had disappeared around the corner, she followed the directions, but turned left instead of right.

There were two stairways, one going up to the practice room, and the other leading down to the left side of the house. She practically ran down the stairs, excitement coursing through her veins. She almost tripped several times from her unsteady feet, but regained balance, gripping the banister. No lights were lit, and the electricity seemed to be off in this section of the house. Despite the brightness of the Summer morning, it was dark like night, everything tinted blue. She peaked through one of the doors. Another empty, spare bedroom, with white sheets covering everything as usual. The dark, thick curtains blocked off any possible sunlight.

The darkness was probably an omen to stop what she was doing, to go back, practice, don't think about it and forget it. But she couldn't control her limbs. She was being drawn in, her head pulsing, and heart pounding. She rounded the corner; this section of the house seemed utterly abandoned. She continued for a long while, before seeing a shadow at the end of the hall.

The more she walked further toward the left side of the house, the more lights were lit. She never knew how many candelabras were needed in midday, but apparently it was a lot. Turning down more corridors, the electricity was used in the rest of them. She heard servants' voices, and she quickly ducked into an empty bedroom, keeping it open just a crack. The maid from earlier and an older looking man were walking together. "…very strange the way they've both been acting….."

"Especially since Master Herondale has…" the man replied, both of them disappearing out of view. Clary shut the door behind her and nearly bolted.

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She had to go down two more flights of stairs before reaching the east wing. Creeping down several different passages, it was almost symmetrical to her living quarters. Sure of herself now, Clary peaked around the corner and saw that the coast was clear. She rushed to the door, her hands shaking nervously as she turned the handle. It clicked, then gave way.

"Thank the angel!" she breathed quietly.

Stepping into Jace's room, she felt wind passing over her, goose bumps arising from her bare arms. The balcony doors were wide open, the light, transparent curtains rippled and billowed ominously, as if saying, "You don't belong here."

The room was as usual, unusually clean and neat. She opened several of his drawers, which looked like an identical dresser in her room. All his clothing folded to perfection. She sighed, slamming it shut. She wouldn't find anything in here. At least nothing that would appease her suspicions, or even worse, prove them right.

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After an hour of searching, the only thing she reaped from her work was a dingy, gray dress in the fireplace, half charred and in pieces. The ashes were wet from someone putting out the fire and had stuck to the fabris. She couldn't make anything out of it though. An old dress of his mothers? What else could it be? it didn't matter, she told herself. It didn't help her at all. If Jace wanted to cross dress….

She chuckled at the thought, and chuckle turned to giggling, and giggling turned to hysterical laughing, where she didn't really remember what it was she thought was so funny about Jace wearing a dress and what it would look like. Never mind, she remembered. she flung herself on his empty bed, turning so se could smell Jace's scent, but she couldn't find any. had his scent mixed with hers so there wasn't a distinction? she smelled her armpit. Nope.

She touched the sheets, a very, very fine layer dust covered the sheets. How long had Jace not slept in this bed? How long had it been since he had slept a good nights rest? Maybe he had been right, she always said she loved him, but she never, ever seemed to notice when he was upset, or neglected of something. She was too centered around herself, worried about her own problems.

She breathed it in again…it smelled musty. He hadn't slept since he'd gotten here. Clary sat up cradling her head with her hands. Maybe they were both being a little ridiculous. She looked up, turning her head from the window as the sun glared in her eyes, and saw something. She got up, making her way towards the tiled balcony.

Out here, it looked a little lived in. There were some empty dishes on a glass table, some food left on it from previous meals. She immediately went to the side sofa near the railing. Next to it was a small stand with two drawers. It looked extremely old, must have been an old Herondale family heirloom. She shuffled through most of the papers and most of it was just business, or letters between his siblings. She sat back on the couch, closing her eyes for just a moment.

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"You've got everything down…you remember everything?" Jonathon asked the demon.

"Of course, find a flower and kill it."

"No! No…By the angel just listen!" Jonathon shouted, his temper getting the best of him. The demon in front of him had several mouths all over its fat, rough body. "this man-" he showed the picture of the Midnight Flower, "must be caught and taken back here, not killed. but….if he puts up a fight, I'll give you permission to decapitate him, as long as he's still living…understand?"

"Find man, bring back him, and kill flower?" it asked, all the other mouths moving and snapping and biting.

He sighed. Only warlocks could summon larger, stronger, more…_intelligent _demons.

"Whatever, kill the flower."

**This chapter wasn't fast paced, but it's always nice to have fillers. As you can see, Jonathon has some bad plans to take out the MF so that can't be good either. Remember to Favorite and follow the story!**

**-L**


	18. Chapter 18

**I have to tell you now (as I did a couple weeks ago) things are getting hectic with my life right now; I have play practice after school until 8 this week, plus homework, so I don't have much time to update. I might post chapter 19 tomorrow, but then I probably won't be able to for the rest of the week. I'll post next Monday, I promise!**

**Chapter 18**

**Simon**

Simon draped his cloak around his shoulders, tugging the drawstrings loose on his collar bones. Isabelle stood by the door, smiling nervously at him. She was always like this before he left on a mission. He returned her smile assuredly and confidently back to her. the inn was empty, which was unusual. normally their business was booming on Saturday.

"Be careful." she said as he moved toward her.

"I always am." he replied taking her hands in his. "And I'll return to you before the sun is up. Or you know what will happen." He made a cutting motion across his neck, his eyes crossed. Isabelle laughed, a little less on edge.

"I'll be waiting up for you." she whispered in his ear, her hands placing themselves on his chest while taking a step closer to him. "You'll be fine, and if you aren't, then I'm going to personally kill you."

"And what if I die tonight? What then?" he laughed. He always came back.

"Then I'll make you come back to life again. You always seem to have a way of coming back to me in the end." they gazed at each other for a long time, when Isabelle started to shake her head.

"What?"

"You're trying to make me less mad at you."

"You're mad at me?"

Izzy looked down, smiling and defeated. "You keep on going, and you expect me to stay here, alone and worrying…" she paused, very serious as she looked him right in the eyes. "I want to come with you."

"Izzy-"

"I know! I can't because-"

"The Midnight Flower doesn't let anyone he doesn't trust in his circle."

"TRUST? OF ALL PEOPLE, YOU WOULD THINK-"

"IZZY! Stop yelling. It's just-"

"I get it." she cut in sharply. "It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?"

"No it is not!"

"Oh yeah? Then why?" she upturned her face, glaring at him. In truth, he had never thought about it before. The League seemed more like a frat group. He had never asked why there were no woman there. He had no answer to give her, just lame excuses. "I see then. I get it." she stormed off up the creaky stairs, her fists clenched.

How on earth had that turned into a fight? he asked himself as he closed the door behind him. He looked in the satchel he had around one shoulder. Two bottles of blood, the map, some scraps of parchment in case he needed to write a note for anything, a pencil, several knives. He didn't think he'd be using those though. He had teeth for that. He started of walking, enjoying the night air, but began running when he crossed over the border of the forest and on the outskirts and fields of Idris. He didn't need to be caught by some lurking Shadowhunter.

With his Vampire speed, Simon reached the edge of the city before midnight. The meeting place was here, behind a large hill that would shelter them from patrols. On this side of the city, a small river, really a moat with how sluggish it moved, drifting east and into the brink of the forest. There it would continue to the mountain range and pool up around the base of one, creating a lake.

The south gate faced the hill where Simon waited, the doors closed and ominous. The wall had been built very quickly, and reached only about 15 to 20 feet above ground. The valley was starting to emerge with glowing flowers, signaling the time of midnight. He looked around him; two figures were crawling through the grass together, looking almost like lions passing through the tall grass. that left one other-

He looked up then to see The Midnight Flower, already in costume. "You ready? I've got the map memorized so it'll go a lot faster."

He just nodded, distracted. "You okay?"

"Fine." he replied shortly.

Magnus and Alec came up then, gratefully. "Everyone ready?" Magnus smiled, his eyes full of excitement. They all nodded, crouched in a huddle.

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They went over their plans quickly, going over what they would do if something unexpected happened. Tonight, their leader felt something would go wrong; he was always right on his instinct. Their plan was perfect though, there would be no problem with it…at all.

His leader and Simon crept together down the hill while the others left for the river. The grass kept on tickling his face, making him feel really itchy. He was grateful when they reached the edge of the brush. Simon looked up, waiting for the guard to pass, when he did, he motioned to him to come forward. They both sprinted across the lawn, and didn't slow their momentum down until they slammed into the white stone wall. Creeping along the side it, Simon found a few already crumbling handholds.

He nodded to the man beside him and began to crawl his way up. He had no pulsing heart, but he could feel excitement crawl through him, pulsing in his veins. Adrenaline made everything 100 percent sharper, despite his already sharp senses. He reached for another empty space, when another guard came, walking slowly, checking the outside to make sure there were no intruders. Simon's body froze, his body tensing. He was halfway up, the man behind stopping too. He held his breath, before giving up the foolishness. he could hold his breath however long he wanted.

The Shadowhunter paused right above him, it seemed. Simon squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the shout, for their cover to be blown, but it didn't come. he glanced up to see the man had moved on. He grabbed the space a few feet to the left and shifted his body, gripping on that hold tightly. He repositioned his feet, continuing upward. He was almost there, about six feet away from the ledge, his face level to the floor, when he could not find any handholds. It was perfectly smooth up here. Swearing, he checked that no guards were coming, and leaped; pushing with his feet and letting go with his hands. It felt completely exhilarating and terrifying at the same time, suspended in the air for a few seconds, before tumbling over the ledge and onto the stone floor, landing with a sickening thud, his stomach feeling quite queasy. He jumped as his leader landed gracefully next to him, posed like a cat. "Let's get going." was all he said. he never did say much on missions, and when they were, it was always short encouragements.

The next patrol would be coming any minute, so they followed the route the of the Shadowhunters, starting right. They crawled almost, crouching low to the clean, stone floor. He beckoned Simon to go faster, and it wasn't too soon before they could see the second guard twenty feet in front of them. Simon looked down and saw the east gate beneath them. "The ladder should be around here in the next few feet or so-" Simon whispered, and upon seeing the wooden rungs that would take them to the city floor, broke off. "There they are."

"We'll have to look out for perimeter patrol on the ground as well, though."

Simon nodded, gulping. He went down first. Slowly going down each rung, he made sure not make one small creak. He looked over his shoulder, it was clear, and the drop was only a ten foot drop. Sure, it would be a bit jarring, but faster and more efficient. Leaping from the ladder, Simon let go of the rung and tucked and rolled before he hit the ground, lessening the impact. He just jumped into a crouch beside Simon. Showing off hi Shadowhunter skills…again. The Midnight Flower led him this time through the winding streets, passing through the suburb area.

Most of the windows were dark in the old houses, all of them had black runes engraved in the panels on the windowsill and on the doorframe. He could feel some houses with silver, ebbing him away from the burning touch. He was sure iron and electrum was imbedded in a few houses as well.

He stopped short when they reached part of the wall that opened up. It was a muddy, rust covered gate, about the height of Clary and the width allowed barely two people side by side. The tall man took out his stele and traced a rune on one of the bars. It swung open, and he gestured Simon in first. "Lead the way." his voice echoed, bouncing off the walls for a long time. He ducked in, and started onward, the stone floor slippery and covered in a sheen layer of green slime and moss.

He stepped carefully when the path began to slope downward. At the bottom, it eventually leveled out, breaking into two separate paths. Treading slowly, the smell grew horrendous, but that was expected; it was the underground sewers of Alicante, of course. Crap had been breaking down here for centuries. Simon gagged and stopped his habit of breathing. His leader plugged his nose. "Which way?"

"Right." he replied. "You might want to pull out a witchlight. It's about to get dark."

"Won't it burn you?" his deep voice asked.

"I'll manage, I think."

He pulled it out, clutching the stone in his hand, the light creating odd shadows on the soggy, moist walls surrounding them. Simon winced, the light burning his skin a little. He made the turn, the man behind him following him. The sewer was a huge system that had grown over the long years, as the population grew. Miles of it was under the city, and even past the expanse of the city.

After about half an hour of walking through the tunnels, they turned circular, constantly going downward. The floor wasn't slime anymore, more like sludge turning into toxic waste. Simon gagged again. He wondered how disgusting it was for the tall man behind him, who had to breath. Simon stepped timidly in the stuff, cringing when he lifted his foot, making a loud sucking sound.

"You're making it worse. Just keep going." he breathed heavily behind him.

"How bad is it for you?"

He glared at Simon, causing him to smile. "Let's just say that the vampire better be grateful. I'm not breathing through my nose and I can _still_ smell it. I think I can almost taste it." he started to make a horrible, retching sound.

"Come on, I'm sensitive to puking. If you puke, I'm going to puke, and it'll be blood, and it'll look a little like a woman's once a month thing."

This made him laugh , and wipe the sweat off his brow. Did he mention it was hot down there?

It was hot. The humidity didn't help diminish the stench, only intensifying it.

"This is practically the worst mission ever. Remind me never to help you again?"

"noted."

And they began again, the sludge going from ankles to mid-calf. The tunnels widened a bit. Ladders started to appear as they reached the center of the city, that would lead up to different areas of Alicante. The next passageway was five different paths. Simon racked his brain trying to remember.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure which way it is."

"Then consult your map."

Simon pulled out the paper, staring at the black marks inking it's way around the page. He had studied the thing for hours and highlighted the path they would go after deciphering the confusing maze. "Here we are…." he said pointing near the center of the page "So…we take the third hall to the left. Come along then." Simon waved his hand, walking forward again. He stepped on the threshold, when he heard a growling noise. He froze. The sound was definitely not human. It gurgled, something moving in the shadowed hallway before him, that would eventually lead to cells underneath cells in the Gard.

It moved forward again, the bulging thing in front of him covered in mouths. He backed up into his friend behind him. "Simon…what is that?"

"It's a…demon. It somehow got past the demon towers."

"Jonathon…" he muttered. "He let him in here, I bet."

"Possibly-" they had both been backing away slowly, hoping maybe to run until they reached the narrower halls. The demon was quite fat, several mouths covering his flabby, bulging chest, his skin a sickly gray. The Shadowhunter pulled out his seraph sword, the blade glowing as he named it.

"_Gabriel." _he shouted. "Get away demon, before we kill you!"

It snarled at him, his mouths repeating the action all across its body. Some near the sludge spewed it out, twisting into a grimace.

"I was hoping you would say that."

His good leader leaped at the demon, his bade raised. The thing jumped to the side, surprisingly agile for something its size. He slashed at it, the blade spraying the feces all over the demon, which caught on fire from the heavenly touch. It screamed, swatting at the burning sludge covering its body. He did again, shouting. The demon screamed in agony as it burned, melting into the sludge itself, becoming the thing that killed it.

"What a gruesome way to die." Simon stood staring at the Midnight Flower in awe. His disguise was covered in the disgusting stuff, speckling his pale face and long, stringy wig.

"He deserved it, we're behind schedule. Which way now?" Simon consulted his map, and pointed at the left passage.

"We keep going left for the rest of the time, and then on the fifth tunnel we'll reach a metal ladder. That's when we can get Camille."

He sighed. "Finally. I need to get out of these clothes and take a two hour shower."

They continued, the sludge worsening the further they went; it was now to their knees, and it took great effort to pull their legs up and take a step. Each step made a huge pop, and then gurgling noise. The sludge would funnel around his legs, almost like it had a mind of its own, trying to pull him down further into the stuff and suffocate him. He shuddered at the thought. that would be the worst possible way to go. Of course, he couldn't _be_ suffocated.

They were both exhausted by the end, the metal rungs looking like heaven on earth to both of them. "I'm going first." he said, pushing past Simon. He lifted his leg, making one, last popping noise before lifting the other. The sludge seemed to pull on him, sucking on his leg.

The gurgle, and the pop, and he was free. He pushed his shoulder against the top, a loud clanging sound rang and echoed through the sewer. he pulled himself into the room above Simon, disappearing from sight. He stayed in the sewer; if he went up, he wouldn't come back down.

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**Camille**

Camille had been in the Gard for over a week, and she could feel her hunger. It was always there, clawing at the back of her mind. She would've jumped the Shadowhunter that passed her cell every afternoon, if it hadn't been for her silver handcuffs keeping her back.

So when an old man had crawled his way into her cell, it took all her control in not sinking his fangs in his neck. She could almost smell the iron in his blood from here…

"Camille." he started, his voice was rough and old. she didn't recognize it. "I'm here to help you."

She fidgeted, his arteries seemed to pulse. "How do you know me?" she asked, her voice scratchy from unuse. He walked toward her and swung his glowing seraph blade onto the chains. He pulled them away and held up his hands. "I'm the Midnight Flower." he wavered, his old body trembling.

"I thought he was a myth, a…rumor."

He touched his chest. "I think I'm real. Last time I checked."

"How are you going to help me?" she asked, standing up and folding her arms across her chest.

"Down here." he pointed at the hole where he had crawled out of.

"What's down there?" she stepped carefully toward him, looking into the hole. There was a ladder, with brown stuff covering the floor. A disgusting stench wafted up to her. She backed away, stumbling. "You're crazy! The sewage?"

"It's the only way." he replied. His close were covered in the feces, his hair and his face. She cringed.

"You'd have to kill me."

He sighed. "That might be an option. You execution is tomorrow, you know. And from the looks of it, they're starving you, too." he eyed her.

She gasped. she hadn't been told. "We have blood down there, if it helps. Might distract you from the smell….and everything else."

She looked down again. "We?"

"My friend and I."

"You came for _me_?"

"You have a lot of power and knowledge. We can use it to our advantage."

She shut her eyes, lowering herself on the ladder. The formidable squish sounded the arriving of her foot sinking into the…stuff. She clung to the ladder like a life line. She kept her eyes squeezed shut, violently shaking her head. "No…Just let me burn. You can't make me. Someone grabbed her waist from behind, his powerful grip almost pulling her from her perch. the Midnight Flower urged her. "Hurry up, you'll let the whole prison know where you're going."

She screamed again as the person pulled at her. Her grip loosened, and they both knew it at the same time what would happened. As if in slow motion, her hands let go uselessly and fell backward onto the man's chest, feeling his surprise. As they both fell, she closed her mouth eyes, before plunging under the muck. She didn't know how long she was under there. she had no sense of direction. It was too thick to know anything. And then she felt a hand grip her shirt, searching.

He pulled her up, and she stood, stock still, completely covered in…it. She wiped her sludge covered face off with her sludge covered hands. She opened her eyes, the old man looked clean I comparison to her and the other man. His eyes were so white compared to his brown face. She wiped her mouth, which was clamped shut, and screamed and shrieked as load as she could. "AHHHHHHHHH WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!? I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" she lunged for the brown man, but she was extremely slow versus her normal speed. she stumbled and fell back in, the sludge reaching her chin. Her slick hair pasted to her face, and she wondered how long it would take to get it like it was before this.

Their laughs echoed through the sewer. She opened her mouth to yell again, rising to her full frame, when the old man cut in, his voice slightly less old now, and more youthful. "Just drink your blood vampire."

he trudged his way over to her, two bottles filled with thick, red liquid. Her mouth watered. She reached her hand out, and slapped the man's face, leaving a brown handprint on his cheek. He blinked several times. 'Now, I don't think I deserve that. Do you still want the blood?"

She grabbed both bottle, pooping the cork off. She took a huge gulp before grimacing. "This is-'

"Animals blood?"

She nodded, staring at it with loathing and love. She swallowed her pride and downed the bottle, and half of the other, feeling much better, despite the lukewarm-ness of it. "We have to get somewhere, don't we?" she urged as the two men stared at her. She was already covered in the stuff, might as well walk through it.

The brown man turned opposite of the ladder and began walking in the right hallways.

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The sludge was lowering down to her ankles, much to her relief. She was exhausted. Her boots were filled with the thick stuff, so every time she stepped, she could feel it squishing against her sole.

"Almost there." Simon said. he had introduced himself, a vampire like her, and had apologized.

They walked for ten more minutes before the tunnels narrowed, Simon in front, her in the middle, and The "Midnight Flower" in the caboose. There was no sludge anymore, just a layer of slippery slime; and even better, the stench was as well. They suddenly emerged from the tunnels, a hill shadowing them from the walls. They were outside of the city, about a hundred yards away. Right next to them, the small river slowly moved its way to the forest. It was still dark outside, but she could tell it wouldn't be for much longer.

"We have to swim across the river to the boat we have hidden."

She nodded, ready to plunge herself in the water and run free of the heaviness covering her.

'Now! Let's go!" The old man said ater checking the walls for the patrol. She ran in gratefully. Her hair floating around her, gaining every second it's normal white blonde color. She wiped her face and spun around. The river would've been called murky, but it was perhaps the cleanest thing she had ever touched in her life. She wanted to shout and laugh and sing. She rose to the surface, wondering where this boat was.

The Midnight flower was swimming agilely for an old man, and his hair kept falling off, revealing his true hair color. He was young, the makeup and fake nose rubbed off. She recognized him immediately.

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**Simon**

The water was refreshing on his skin, and he would've enjoyed it like Camille was, but her knew that his time was running short. He had to go get back home to Isabelle, before the sun rose. He wouldn't be able to reach her if the sunrise started and he was still out. He'd find a cave and wouldn't be able to talk to her until the next night.

He jumped onto the boat, Alec handing him a clean towel to dry himself with. "I need to go home. I won't make it-"

Alec nodded. "I understand. I'll tell him about it. You won't have to worry. you don't have much after this. Jordan's picking her up at the end of the river and into a cave, and from there, he'll take her into the mountains, and she can handle herself from there." Simon nodded, stepping onto solid ground and started running, running back home to Isabelle.

**Wow that was long! I had a LOT of fun writing this. And I hope you enjoyed reading it. It was really gross, and really gross in my mind. If you've seen Les Mis, then you'll kind of imagine what the sludge looked like. Goodnight!**

**Review Please!**

**-L**


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm sorry if your mad, but the time it took to write this and update was TOTALLY worth it! I've been super busy with a few business projects in school, not to mention two play productions I had to get ready for. I gave you a SUPER LONG CHAPTER, SO EVERYONE REVIEW AND FAVORITE AND FOLLOW! But don''t expect really long chapters fro now on. They actually might be a little short.  
**

**This would've been up last night, but due to some technical difficulties, I had to rewrite this one part four times in one night. Haha, I have really, REALLY, bad luck.**

**-L**

**Chapter 19 (!)**

Clary woke up to the sound of running water. The room was gray from the coming dawn, the sky outside a dark blue. She lifted her head from the pillow, terribly groggy and heavy. She blinked several times, clearing her eyes before she realized where she was.

Jace's room.

She could feel herself start to hyperventilate, the continuance of the pounding rhythm of the shower stopped. Jace would be in there any minute. She couldn't decide what to do: sit and wait for him, pretend she was still asleep when he came in, or book it to her room. She took one, small, timid step forward, and froze as Jace flung open the bathroom door, staring at her in shock.

He was dripping wet, wearing nothing but a blue towel sloppily tied around his waist; his bare, tan chest gleaming. She was sure she looked like a deer caught in headlights, so she straightened her posture, "What are _you_ looking at?" she asked with dignity.

Jace wiped any look of shock, and replaced it with a small, side smile. "Nothing." He replied.

She raised both her eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

"I just wasn't expecting you to be up yet, is all." He walked past her to the dresser for clothes.

"And what did you plan to do if I hadn't been awake?" She crossed her arms, standing as tall as she could with her small stature.

He didn't give an answer, bending down to open a few drawers, before looking over his shoulder, smiling slyly even more, his expression like he was about to laugh.

Clary glanced away from him for a moment, to the closed balcony doors, where she had gone through his stuff, pointlessly. "Well, if you aren't going to answer that, how about this one…Where were you yesterday?" she asked accusingly.

"Nowhere that would interest you." he replied shortly, straightening his back.

"Amuse me." she sat down on his bed and leaned on her hands behind her.

Jace turned around, his mouth clamped shut. She inwardly sighed. "Did you expect me not to ask? After a whole day," she could feel her voice rising, "and you just now get back-"

"Well, I've actually been here for over half an hour. I was in the shower, you see-"

"Jonathon." she said angrily, knowing his full name would catch his attention, "I was so worried; you left without any warning. Why?"

He looked away, swallowing hard. "I thought you'd try to persuade me to not go."

Clary nodded. Spot on. "You could've left me a note, or something!" she exclaimed, letting her arms give way, her back plopping on his mattress.

Jace awkwardly approached her and stopped next to the foot of his bed, where he was unsure himself for probably the first time in his life. If something like this had happened before their marriage, he would've put an arm around her instantly, comfort her, assure her with a few words, and kisses. He remained still now his handed tapping the bed unconsciously, but his expression changed to discomfort. Discomfort at their exchange, or just the fact that he'd been caught…of guard…in his towel. After another minute, she felt the bed shift under her, his weight disturbing her angry silence.

"I don't even know why I'm bothering to ask you." she spat. "Why I even bother-"

His voice sounded behind her. "You don't deserve the truth."

At this, she bolted in a sitting position, and angled her body to Jace. She could feel her face turning red from her temper; if he said anything else, it'd probably go as dark as her unruly hair. "I DON'T DESERVE IT?" Clary thundered. "I even told you about what happened the night before, and you STILL can't forgive me! You wondered _why_ I waited all this time to tell you. I told _so_ you could trust me!"

"I have my reasons!" he yelled, his face contorting stonily.

"And what are those, because I can give SEVERAL reasons _why I_ don't trust you!"

"Really? And what are those?!" he moved onto his knees, towering over her. She did the same, not liking the feeling of being overpowered. With this shift, they were both in each other's face. His pupils were huge from the dark and his anger (where ever it came from) and little pink splotches covered his cheek.

"For one, you're gone for days, two, you don't ever talk to me, or touch or even look at me -"

"Ah uh, those aren't reasons, they're complaints. You have no excuse not to trust me" he cut in, raising one eyebrow.

"Do you want me to make a list then?" she laughed harshly.

"Sure."

"One) you don't talk to me ever. Two) you hardly look at me. Three) you don't touch me at-" she repeated.

"Do want me to?"

Clary blinked. "_What_?"

He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him. "_Do you want me too?_" he repeated.

She was speechless for a few seconds before she answered. "No."

"Alright then." he said shortly. He got off the bed stiffly, hopefully a little disheartened like she was right then. If he thought that physical touch would fix everything, then he was wrong. She mostly yearned to talk to someone about Jonathon. But how could she when Jace acted like this to her?

He made his way to the balcony doors, and flung them open, a cool breeze coming in, drifting the curtains in a ghostly way. Right then, she had a brilliant idea. An awful and crude idea, but an idea nevertheless. It would just prove her point in her reason of saying no to him.

She wasn't sure how to approach him, especially after she had just rejected his offer. So she decided to just jump into it, without explanation or warning. Clary inwardly braced herself and slid off the bed silently and slowly crept toward Jace. She inhaled deeply when she stood behind him. She closed her eyes and forced herself, despite her mind telling her no.

He didn't realize she was there until she had her hands on him, stroking his toned shoulders and back, little scars covering them. His muscles tensed for a second from surprise, but relaxed again as her palms smoothed down to his waist, brushing over his hipbone that peeked out of his towel. He sucked in a sharp breath, and she smiled, glad that she could still have that effect on him. Taking this as encouragement, she lightly scraped her fingernails across his abdomen and chest. He let out a shaky breath; she could feel his heart's pace quicken considerably. She butterfly kissed his back, following his spine and stood on her tip toes as it grew harder with her height. She was thinking the whole time _"This is wrong, this is wrong, wrong wrong wrong..."_

She yelped in surprise as one of his arms swung her around to face him. She wiped the grin off her face immediately. The lightening sky cast shadows across his angular face, his lips were considerably perfect in the faint light, like they were cut of stone. he cleared his throat, looking at her expectantly, smirking a little at her. She stopped staring at his lips, turning a little red when he caught her doing so. His pupils were huge due to the lack of light, the blackness almost swallowing up the gold. "You know, you're sending me too many mixed signals." he leaned down to whisper seductively in her ear. "Very confusing…and inconsiderate."

"I thought men liked that."

"Like what?" he asked, his air coming out bated, sending little tingles down from her neck to toes. This was bad, she couldn't let him affect her, she had to remain in control.

"A challenge." she smirked as she pulled away from him. She had only taken one step back when he pulled her against him even tighter. She was sorry to say that she gasped a little in surprise as his fingers dug in around her waist, as to not let her go.

"Most of the time." he grinned. "Sometime it's a little tortuous."

"Well it would get a little old if it was easy." she countered.

"But most of the time, there's always one girl who is content to watch you suffer, just for the fun of it."

"If you're referring to me, I wasn't even aware you liked me."

"I wasn't aware of your liking me!" he exclaimed, smiling wider; that one smile that had always brightened up her day.

"Because I was a challenge, you couldn't resist. If I was easy, then where'd I be?" she wondered then, who it was he'd been with in the past three years, and whether she had let him in like a sitting duck, or boded her time, and ensnared her husband.

He looked down. "Most likely thrown away the next morning."

She nodded. She hadn't meant for this to happen, to tease and have a conversation…It would just make it harder in the morning. "It still works doesn't it?" she asked, gripping the edge of his towel and undoing the knot, her hands the only thing keeping it from falling off. His eyes flew wider, blinking hard, pupils dilating. His lips parted, waiting for her to continue expectantly. His body was trembling from his excitement and strain to not rush her. She was trembling too, all the nervous energy had built up, making her feel like she was going to explode. She gripped the ends tighter, trying to stop her hands from shaking.

"By the Angel, what are you waiting for?" he breathed, brushing her hair out of her face. His and her chests were rising swiftly, both their heart beats pounding in a different pace, just like each others purposes. Right then was a perfect time to ask, especially since she had him literally around her finger. "I have to ask you something…" she gasped as he pressed his face against her neck, exhaling damply, creating little goose bumps.

"Anything." he replied in less than a heartbeat, slightly muted.

"You promise to tell the truth-"

"Just ask the question, Clarissa!" he almost shouted with his impatience. She could count each panting breath as they drifted their way down her throat.

She decided not to sugar coat it. "Who have you been sleeping with?" she blurted. Closing her eyes as Jace started to do delicious things to her neck.

He froze, the only sound in the room but their heavy breathing. "What?" he asked, right against her skin.

She bit her lip. "Who is it you are cheating with?" she repeated, quietly and slowly.

His head withdrew from her, this time his lips parted in surprise. "I thought you had given up on that notion, Clarissa. Answering that would be ridiculously stupid."

Her jaw clenched, and glared at him. "You promised, Jonathon…" she could feel her heart sinking lower and lower...

"I promised I'd tell you the truth, and that's what it is, Clarissa; stupid. Don't think about it again." he replied coldly.

"Oh, and now I'm not allowed to think, or ask questions?" she laughed with no humor. "Funny how the other night, _you_ were the one complaining about me not telling you anything. Oh, how the tables have turned! How do you expect me to tell you anything if you don't either? Do you _think_ you can stop me from thinking or questioning anything at all? Because, let me tell you something, _Jonathon_!" she spat, "I can't do that. I won't be your little docile wife, just for show! I'd rather get a divorce than-"

"Wait, what? What did you say?" he asked, his brow furrowed and mouth parted in shock, surprise and horror imminent on his face.

"If you won't answer me, I want to file a divorce. I can't keep doing this." she answered slowly, almost in a monotone voice. If he'd tell her, everything would be better. She could see it. The little…bug would be crushed under her foot. She would ruin that woman, and right in front of Jace. Perfect for her, not so much for the woman. Of course, _she_ was the reason why Clary's life hadn't been perfect these past three years. She deserved this.

"Fine, if you want the truth, here it is." Jace ground his teeth. "I haven't been cheating on you."

Her eyelashes fluttered. "_What?_" she gasped.

"_I'm not cheating on you._" he repeated, very coldly and indignantly. "It's really sad that you would think I would do that. That with any problem in our relationship is answered with _me_ being unfaithful to _you_. As if I could even-" But Clary cut him off as he grew more passionate.

"But…you were always gone…you'd get letters and leave for the longest time-" she stumbled over her words. She sounded like such a fool.

"And you thought it was love letters."

"Yes."

"Did you ever think that I was leaving for business, for my job?"

Jace had an honorary place in the council, despite his loathing for Jonathon and Valentine.

"I…I never thought about it."

"Of course you didn't." he said immediately, glaring at her with loathing. "You didn't even think to ask me-"

"Yes I did!" she shouted. "In the carriage, don't you remember?" he looked confused and caught off guard. She used it to her advantage. "Oh, I know why. Because you left almost the second I asked!"

Jace didn't have anything to say to that. They were inches apart, but they probably hadn't ever been so repulsed by the other. She hadn't realized it, but she still had his towel knotted in her hands and was, in her rage, twisted in her palms. Everything lined up between their bodies, but never had something so verbally wrong made Clary feel so far and isolated from Jace. She tied the ends roughly back in place and tried to get as far away from him as possible, backing onto the balcony and stopping when she hit the rail. With each step she took back, he took one toward her. He was staring at her in suspicion, and she in disgust.

He wasn't done with the conversation, but she certainly was. She felt trapped and suffocated. Too many truths had been let out tonight. She had been wrong about him. What else had she guessed about, and been mistaken? "We need to talk about this." he told her, stated really. He wouldn't be taking no for answer.

"What else is there, Jace?" she felt drained, so exhausted despite sleeping for the whole day. All she wanted was to lie down and sleep. She just wanted to just relieve the exhaustion that had plagued her for three years now. She smiled at the thought until she realized that she would, as she always had, dream of Jace.  
A cruel world indeed, she thought bitterly.

"There's plenty, if you use that head of yours. Really, you just threatened for divorce!" he exclaimed. He sounded a little desperate, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Maybe he did care for her after all.

"I didn't really mean it." she waved. But she thought then, what she would've done if he hadn't confessed. "At least, I thought that that would be enough persuasion to convince you."

He let out a shuddering exhale. His body untensed, and he neared her, closing in the wanted distance between them. She couldn't do this tonight. Even though he was so tempting in that blue towel… "I'm sorry if I scared you...Clarissa." he added, "I…I just got a bit mad."

Clary nodded, looking down at her feet. "And…I'm sorry…for thinking the worst of you."

"That's alright, I should be used to it." he grinned, trying to crack the ice.

She narrowed her eyes. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"However you want to take it."

"And if I'd rather not?"

He came up quite close to her. "I can explain it to you."

"Explain what?" she asked, closing her eyes, not extremely coherent as he drew her closer to him, gently stroking little circles below her jaw.  
He sighed. "Nothing. It's much too complicated for your little red head. Much too long." he grinned, patting her wild hair and taking a step back from her, holding her hands still.

"Oh really? Am I really too daft to do this?" she made him follow her back into the room where she placed her hands on his shoulders, backing him up against one of the four poles. His eyes widened darkly. "Or this?" she moved in between his legs, kissing his abdomen, and each black rune that tattooed his body up his chest and neck, She placed one kiss behind his ear before whispering, "What's too complicated for my red head?" she breathed against him. "Obviously not the way I know you're enjoying this too much."

Every muscle in his body responded to her, his skin should've been straining to keep all of it in. Jace was leaning on the bed post for support, his legs trembling (She could feel that, too), his head tilted upwards, chest rising swiftly and eyes rolled back as she touched him. She traced the lines on his chest, scratching her nails against his skin as she reached closer to the towel. Really, that thing was the only barrier between them.

He pulled her off him, before finally kissing her. It was fierce and rough, Clary felt tingly everywhere, moving rapidly in his arms. His hands were none to gentle with her, as they outlined her slight figure, cradling her neck, gliding down her chest, past her bum, stopping finally by her thigh. "Do you want me to go up further?" he asked, pinching the inside part of her leg. She jerked, panting a little. She recognized the question from earlier in the week, and it wasn't taken as lightly as before.

**Camille**

Camille felt herself looking back behind her again, towards Alicante, which had disappeared behind the dark and dense foliage of the Brocelind Forest, which had surprised her very much when it finally did. The boat seemed to be moving as slow as a sloth upriver. Really, she could've reached the foot of the mountain by now, while, right then, they were still floating idly, the base still far away. "Is there any way we could go faster?" she complained, drumming her fingers on the rough and splintered banister of the boat.

In front of her, Magnus cringed, much like he had whenever she would retort at him. "Honestly, I could of gotten there by now, without your pathetic magic. And I'm even in weakened condition with this disgusting _animal_ blood." she sneered. She knew she was being rude, but she rationalized it. The fact that she had just been drenched in the centuries old sewer and almost close to death with dawn fast approaching; She thought had a reason to be impatient and rude.

"Because you don't know what you're talking about, I'll excuse you. Regardless of how fast you got there, I'd still have to be there to open up the entrance. Only my 'pathetic magic' can get you inside."

Camille didn't respond, but instead looked behind her again, to the direction of the city. The sun would be rising soon, any minute. The sky had turned a beautiful purple that Camille couldn't really enjoy with her anxiety. She fell forward as the boat hit ground. She braced herself and regained her balance, her mouth parted in shock. They had reached the end of the river, which pooled at the base of the mountain, creating a shallow lake. "How did we-"

"My pathetic magic isn't really pathetic. I made it so you couldn't know the way here."

She stared. "And what was the purpose of that?"

The Midnight Flower doesn't really trust you. The scenery that you were seeing was what we were seeing 10 miles ago."

She laughed. "Smart guy… But wouldn't it be simple to just blindfold me?"

"You'll find that the Midnight Flower doesn't do anything simple."

"I think I see it." She thought about the sewer, and now this. She slid off the edge of the boat, landing on the stamp, squishy ground. "Well, we should get going, shouldn't we?" she was eager to get underground and hide for the day.

Alec nodded, and slid like she had done, Magnus repeating the action. The two men left to hide the boat in the forest, and Camille waited by the foot of the Mountain. It really was just a bunch of rocks squeezed together, all jagged and sharp. The two returned swiftly, wiping their dirt-covered hands on their pants. She snapped her fingers at them, trying to urge them to go faster. "Come on, we're burning night time!"

"Patience is a virtue." Alec whispered to Magnus, but she still heard it from the distance between the two.

**Camille**

She calculated she had about 5 minutes before she fried. She looked behind her, checking the sun. The sky was now a light, colorless, blue and, right by the horizon, it was now almost glowing from the soon rising sun. They had been climbing the rocks for over ten minutes, trying to avoid cutting their hands. Camille could almost feel herself burning up already.

"Is the entrance coming up soon?" she rushed, her voice rising.

"We'll be there soon enough." Alec replied calmly.

How could they not be panicking like she was at the moment? Did they not care at all? But they had come all this way to save _her_. Why waste time saving somebody when they were just going to die, anyway?

She stepped and stumbled, very distracted. The ground in front of her was worn smooth and flat, as if it was walked on constantly. "Here we are."

Camille stared at the warlock. "There's nothing here. There's no entrance or opening of any kind!"

They must be mad...or sadistic. What kind of person would raise someone's hopes but crush them completely? "Not yet..." Magnus grinned. He put one hand in the middle the rock, muttering a few undecipherable words before standing. "There you are."

"Nothings _there_! You two are-" a loud grinding noise erupted beneath her, cutting her off. The smooth rock was moving under her feet! She screamed as the landing disappeared and she fell into a dark pit.

**Clary**

Clary wasn't sure when, but they had at some point fallen into his bed. Her sweater had been removed, her tank top riding up as Jace lay over her. She didn't know what she was doing, a strange predatory side took over whenever they had been this close, her body ignoring what her mind was screaming, that there were still too many problems between them to being doing this. Obviously this thought was completely wiped from mind as Jace dug his fingers into her hips, his lips hard and unrelenting on hers, tasting every inch of her mouth. She closed her eyes, rolling her hips against his, causing them both to shudder and take quivering gasps of air. Clary wasn't sure how that towel was staying on, but it remained firmly knotted.

The bedding was twisting around them in a hopeless mess; the pillows were strewn on the floor, the comforter in the way of everything, and the sheets entangled in between their legs.

Jace placed butterfly kisses all over her face, down her neck, peppering them along the neckline of her tank top. He gripped her thigh, tightening his hold whenever she brushed somewhere sensitive for him. She twisted under him, rolling on top of Jace, laughing breathlessly at his surprised expression. She kissed him tenderly, teasing him, when she gasped, Jace rolling back on top of her. She gave him a look, and this time he smirked before attacking Clary's lips once again. She tried to repeat the action, but Jace wouldn't let her back on top, his body almost crushing hers. He was placing long kisses up her neck when she grabbed him, causing him jerk above her.

"By the Angel, what was that for?" he panted, his body still shuddering. He said this against her neck, sending more electricity down her spine.

She grinned, rolling over him, trying to gain dominance. She stayed there for about 5 seconds when he turned them over, but shrieked when they fell off the bed. They both started laughing, side by side next to each other. "We probably shouldn't do that again." she wheezed.

Jace looked at her, but Clary couldn't read his scrutinizing expression. "Do what?"

Clary opened her mouth, but no words came out. Their breaths were becoming more controlled now, not so rapid as before. "Either."

"Either?" he repeated monotonously.

"We can't be doing that kind of stuff-"

"Why not?" he rushed, before turning a little pink.

"Because..." she struggled for a reason. They were married, they were allowed to be doing this. "Because I'm not comfortable with it." she lied.

"_Not comfortable?_" he didn't believe her, and neither did she, but she couldn't explain the reason why. They just couldn't. He raised himself on one elbow, looking down at her from above.

"Yes." she replied robotically. "Maybe we should try another time...I'm not in the mood."

"_Not in the mood?" _he snorted, "You seemed fine two minutes ago."

"Yes..but...not now. I have to go back to my room and sleep-"

"Sleep here."

"What? Jace, no, you know-" she blubbered.

"I understand...you can go then." he said coldly, clenching his jaw, his eyes stony as they looked away from her. He got up, as if he couldn't get away from her fast enough.

"Wait, Jace! I-I didn't mean that-" she exclaimed.

"Did you Clary? Really? Was it just to get a reaction from me?"

"No, no it wasn't, I just don't-"she pleaded

"Clarissa, I think you should go."

"But-"

"Leave. Just...Please." his voice cracked

She didn't look back at him as she closed the door behind her, but she could feel his eyes following her.

**Camille**

Camille was in total darkness for a long time. Other than the little square of light on the ceiling, signifying the dawn, she could see nothing. She felt like she was in the sewer again, underneath all the sludge, heavy and black pressing on all sides of her. She heard a loud snap above her; she saw two heads poke into the square of light. "How far _is_ the drop?" Alec called.

"More than fifty feet!" she yelled. Camille heard her voice echo several times.

"Nothing _I_ can't handle." a loud snap resonated throughout wherever she was, and a bright, bluish-white light flashed. Her skin burned horribly, the light making her head ache.

"Put that light out!" she shrieked.

She heard someone swear and the witchlight diminished, leaving only the square to light up that dark place. Something heavy landed next to her,echoing throughout the tunnel. A new light flared up, but this time less bright, a fire, held in Magnus' palm. "That better?"

She nodded, looking around them. It wasn't so much a tunnel than a cave. A never ending cave. A few steps in front of her, a worn path led steeply down into a large chasm. She couldn't see anything else after that, the space too immense to be penetrated by Magnus' little torch. "You lead."

Magnus followed the path, treading carefully as little pebbles and dust tumbled down.

Each step they took echoed loudly as they walked into the cave, visible stalagmites stretching upward. Some were connected to the ceiling high above them, creating a huge hassle to climb over or around. Stalactites littered the ground from when they had broken. The pieces of rock reminded her of an attack on her clan years ago: half of the vampires staked through the heart, and left in the sunlight. Every step she took was a cautious one, the pointed rocks high above not exactly welcoming.

**Camille**

After several hours of walking through this terrain, Alec finally told them to rest. "If we keep at this pace, we'll make it to the end by sundown. And then you'll leave with a werewolf back to France."

"Not we?" she asked anxiously.

"No, we've got to go and sleep. You've got to leave the country as soon as possible."

Camille scowled, as much as she didn't like Warlocks and Shadowhunters, she hated werewolves. "What is it like to know him?" she blurted, taking a sip of blood afterwards from the bottle they had handed her.

They glanced at each other, unsure of what to say and reveal. "It's...scary I guess." Alec replied, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head. "I mean, you have all these lives depending on you. One slip up and they'll be dead, because of you. So, it's kind of nerve wracking. You also have to trust that everyone in the league won't turn you in."

She laughed. "You'd all be betrayed by me in a second." pointing at the two.

"And you wonder why he wouldn't let you see how to get here? You're lucky he even wasted his resources on you. If I were in charge, you'd still be rotting in that cell, while we save someone worth saving. Really, you're one of those Downworlders who don't deserve this."

She frowned at the ceiling, where she could hear little twitters echoing off the walls, signifying the bats that lived up there. Just like all bats lived somewhere dark and far away from sunlight, so would Camille. Maybe she did deserve to die, but she had decided long ago it was not worth it to change her entire lifestyle.

"Thank goodness the Midnight Flower has mercy, then."

"Oh, it's not mercy. You have good information that is profitable to him. He can use you."

"And you couldn't?"

"Wouldn't be worth it."

She humphed, not talking until they had started again, into the ever dark chasm.

**Camille**

The cave-like tunnel sparkled in some places as Magnus' bounced off several different gems and stones. The path had finally smoothed out, the stalagmites clearing, the pot holes disappearing. The blackness seemed to increase the closer they neared their destination, like a dark, heavy envelope weighed them and everything else heavily. The little torch seemed to flicker more and more, like a faint, dying star.

The ground had remained rubble for quite some time, the path steepening, making it more of a climb than actual walking. But thankfully, it evened out. "Should be the last turn here..." Alec informed, turning the corner and grinned. "Exactly!"

The stone floor was worn like the entrance, but instead, didn't need any magic whatsoever. The door-like exit was wide open, the sky all dark. Camille ran, loving the feel of being outside again. In the shadows, someone jumped out,grabbing her. She shrieked yanking from his hard grip. "It's alright, vampire. I'm your ticket out of here." the man from behind he said releasing her, not sounding all too pleased with the idea.

**Two weeks later**

**Clary**

She wiped her sweaty hands on her long, blue dress for what seemed like the millionth time that hour. Several guests milled about her, trying to engage the hostess in conversation. Just like last time, she didn't really feel in the party mood. Her guests twittered about, moving from place to place as light as a feather. All of them of course came to greet and thank the lady of the house, which she accepted graciously, but inwardly, she couldn't help but feel resentment for each of them. All the participants were Shadowhunters, so generally, she didn't like any of them, most siding and helping in the revolution with Valentine.

Sometimes she could hear interesting bits of information,gossips that would catch her attention. One would complain, "I wish it wasn't so hard to leave country. It's such a pain to have to report to patrol and then leave."

But then another would justify, "At least the portals are catching Downworlder scum. Anything that makes it easier to sleep at night."

And a lady would mention, "But that Midnight Flower, he's getting everybody."

Then a man would laugh, "He'll be dead and caught. Jonathon himself told me he knew who it was, and has already got a plan for him." and Clary would feel sick to her stomach, practically running away from that dreadful conversation.

And there she stood, by the west staircase, where not as many came to see her. Form where she stood, Clary could make out Jace, slouched against the wall, five or so woman surrounding him, who was smirking like the cocky, self centered, arrogant person he was. She wondered then why she even invited them. Did their names just look good on the list?

More than anything, she really wanted to go over and slap all of their faces several times over, and see with satisfaction the look of shock on Jace's face. She smiled to herself, leaning on the iron banister.

Although she didn't primarily feel in the party mood, she was having a better time than the one at Magnus' in London. She didn't have to worry about Jonathon, or Jace, or The Midnight Flower. She could just relax, since Jonathon himself wasn't invited-although that wouldn't stop him if he really wanted to get in.

She was even more glad of the party happening for primarily one reason; Jace.

They hadn't had a real conversation since that night, his demeanor as cold as ever. Other than in the morning, when she had sprung the party idea on him. He'd looked so surprised she'd almost laughed. Clary'd had the idea ever since she had gotten there, the empty rooms calling her to imagine them filled with people. And now, it was nothing but filled up. The furniture had been pushed to the sides for more room on the dance floor and still places to sit for others. The band she had hired was now playing a slow and somber song, the eery music drifting its way faintly toward her.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked a sultry voice from behind her.

She flinched before turning around to smack Jace's shoulder. "Don't do that! You know I don't like it when someone surprises me!"

"What?" he smirked, his signature look,leaning next to her so she could smell wine on his breath. "Does it make you jumpy?" at this, he pinched her butt, making her squeal shrilly and jump. "Jace! We're in public! You can't just do that!"

"We can go somewhere private if you want." he grinned seductively, "I can think of several rooms upstairs where-"

"No Jace!" she exclaimed. Why was he so frustrating? she thought angrily. "You can't just ignore me for weeks and then decide you want me! What, did the other half dozen women goggling at you decline your offers?"

"_Half dozen women_?" he raised his eyebrows at her, a little aghast at her. "_Offers?_"

"Yes, you've had several of them surrounding you the whole time!" she threw her hands up in the air. Why couldn't he see what was so obvious?

'No Clarissa, they weren't...hold on, a sec." he narrowed his eyes at her, the right side of his mouth quirking up to the side. "Do I smell a green little monster?" she could tell that he was holding back from laughing at her, which didn't make her feel any better. Maybe he didn't take it seriously, but she was still sensitive to jealousy.

"No, no." she shook her head, and waved her hand carelessly. "Just...never mind."

He only nodded,staring at her for a minute worriedly, before they lapsed into silence, both knowing she was lying. It was only starting to get slightly awkward until Jace offered his hand to her. "Would you like to dance?"

She blinked rapidly. "What?"

"I asked-"

"I know, I know." she cut in, rolling her eyes at him. Jace rested one hand on her hip, and the other held hers. They settled into a slow waltz, the pattern of their steps oddly soothing, probably one of the only things they could do together successfully. He cleared his throat loudly. "I have to leave...for er, business really soon."

Clary's head lifted quickly from his chest. "What? How soon?"

"Umm, right after this song, actually. I wanted to dance with you beforehand so I could tell you-"

"Wait a minute? Beforehand?"her head tilted. "As in, you knew _beforehand_ and you didn't tell me?"

Jace bit his lip, fliching while answering slowly, as if to stop the yells that were soon to come. "Yes...?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she exploded.

"I know, I know, it's bad but I-I didn't want to distract you from the whole party planning thing..." he said it more like he was asking if this was an acceptable answer.

"_'Party planning thing?'_"she tried to raise an eyebrow, but quit the after a quick, failed attempt. "Really, Jace?" she breathed and counted to ten. "Okay, it's fine. It's alright. When are you getting back then?"

"Uh...not sure exactly." he looked around the room anxiously, as if he expected someone to come and save him.

"W_hat do you mean_?" she asked, Clary even hearing the aggressiveness in her tone.

Jace's fingers twiddled on her waist. "It's not exactly, um...set in stone."

She clenched her hands, tightly, Jace wincing as her fingernails dug into his shoulder and knuckles. "You'll send me a letter when you find out?" it was more of a statement than question.

"Of course, of course." he nodded vigorously. She was enjoying this a bit too much, being able to push and control Jace. The song ended its final note, signifying the leave of Jace. She followed him to the east wing, up the stairs. He was down the corridor and turned the corner, when his head poked out from around the wall. "Wait, one more thing, Clarissa. You left your...um, shirt in my room a few weeks ago after..." he cleared his throat, his neck a little pink. "After that night, and so I left the _rooms open_ for _you_, so _you_ can come and get it _anytime_ tonight. But it'll be locked _tomorrow_ by Frank, so if you want to come and get the shirt, do it _tonight_." he emphasized his words oddly and dramatically, to the point of where Clary thought he was making fun of her. She nodded, smiling with big eyes.

"Alright Jace, I'll get the shirt tonight." she told him before turning around and descending the stairs quickly.

Ten minutes later, she saw him slip down the stairs, around the guests and open the front door quietly before leaving, a duffel bag clutched in his hands. He caught her eye, smiling serenely at her before shutting it. She sighed, alone again.

"But not entirely alone" she thought. She had all the guests.

She snorted, thinking of how great _their_ company wold be.

Her mind drifted off to the last moments of their conversation. Why did he say _rooms_? It was probably just in his bedroom. Unless he meant...

She stared at the east wing in wonder and curiosity. He had meant the whole corridor, which meant that he had left his off limits rooms unlocked for her. Her mind burned thinking of what secrets he could be hiding. She knew it was wrong to pry n peoples personal things, but now, she couldn't stop herself. It was as if another force were driving its will into hers. She approached the spiral, and tried to gulp. The guests had all idled in the ballroom before moving up to the dining hall, where they would be stuffed full and have a place to stay if they wanted to.

One foot rested on the first step. No one was there anymore, no one would see. She decided. Rushing up the stairs, she hiked up her skirts to not trip. It was too tempting to not check. After Jace had left, she just had to. She knew it was rude, but she couldn't help herself. The door appeared in front of her like a dream. Clary wasn't aware of moving, but she was aware on her destination. She turned the handle, and held her breath as it creaked open into the unknown.

The door was to his study, large bookshelves covering three walls. In the middle of the room, a large mahogany desk stood grandly. On the wall behind it, several family portraits hung resolutely. She recognized two as Jace's mother and father, smiling happily. Clary was drawn instantly to the desk, where papers lay in orderly piles and stacks. She skimmed through some, but found nothing of interest. She checked the books, looking for any out of alphabetical order (He was a stickler on organization) but she found nothing of interest.

She groaned, frustrated and ashamed with herself. Why couldn't she trust him like a normal wife should? She glared at the desk, narrowing her eyes at the drawers. She yanked the first two open, both empty. Clary checked the other side on his right hand side. she opened the first one:empty. She yanked one hand through her hair as she pulled the other one out. Something inside clattered. She held her breath, opening her eyes and pulled out a small ring. She turned it over in her hand several times, trying to signify the meaning of it in Jace's desk.

On it, set in black, an 'M.' The ring had black splattered all over it, like an ink pen had exploded on it. She narrowed her eyes when it clicked finally. She dropped it like it had burned her, the truth coming in as a shock. All the missing pieces and clues and mysteries finally adding up to one, elaborate puzzle. From the notes to the absences for weeks, now this, she _finally_ got it. The answer to all her questions and wonderings.

This ring had been used to mark the end of letters, dipped in ink and then stamped on a piece of paper. This simple, plain, ring was the cause of all the disrupt in Idris. This ring belonged to the Midnight Flower.

**BAM!**

**love,**

**-L**


	20. Chapter 20

**I hope everyone enjoyed last chapter! Thanks to all those people who clicked the favorite and follow button! I'm having so much fun writing this! I have two or three ideas on my profile for a new story, so check it out if you want to. I probably won't start those until after my school is out, because this fanfic is about ten chapters away from the climax! Special thanks to Anna14 for a snippet she wrote for me put in the last chapter.**

**Please review, favorite, and follow to all those who aren't doing that yet….**

**-L**

**Chapter 20**

Clary bolted up the stairs, trying to get to the dining hall as fast as she could. A million other thoughts were swimming incoherently to the point where they were all scrambled together in one huge mess. It sounded a bit like this:

"Jace..."

"Midnight Flower..."

"Leave..."

"Mother..."

"Need to leave..."

She was sure that cavemen had more intelligent brains than her at that point. She tripped at a landing that she wasn't even aware of, the lace on the hem of her dress ripping. She swore, getting up and hurried in a more ladylike way. She reached that long hallway that eventually led to the Dining Hall, sounds echoing from inside the huge room. Dishes clattered, shouts of laughter and obnoxious behavior, chairs constantly grinding on the wood floor, feet shuffling. She burst into the room, drawing little attention to herself from the raucous of noise erupting in each table. All the white sheets had been removed, revealing shining, glossy, circular tables underneath.

She cleared her throat, "Excuse me!" she shouted. "Excuse me!" no one gave her as much as a sideways glance. "Hey, if everyone could just..." continued ignorance. "EXCUSE ME!"

Everyone hushed one another, the Hall quieting quite dramatically. "Thank you," she started, " for all coming here. I have some things that came up...er, family troubles, and I must leave straight away. If any are staying, feel free to take any room on this floor or the one before us. If you intend to leave, I'm sorry that I can't see you out."

There was a few mutterings, people quizzically studying her. She felt extremely uncomfortable. "Alright then, have a nice night. I'll hopefully see you all within a week.' she forced a straining smile.

She nodded, quickly leaving the room as fast as possible. She could still hearing them talk about her as she left. She ran down the hallway, continuing west, reaching the bend that signified getting closer to her wing. She rushed faster, believing that every second counted. Jace was the Midnight Flower. Jace was the Midnight Flower! she thought it over and over in her head, not doing anything to take away from the shock. Everything he had done to her, every cold act was for a reason. She opened the door and went immediately to her dresser, pulling out two days worth of clothes. If she left that night, she could reach the Ironwork stop by morning, since Jace had the family carriage. She was never really sure how to fire message, she reasoned that she could ask someone upstairs to do it for her, but that would create more questions. And that wasn't what Jace did, he organized and planned in secrecy.

She scribbled down a message for the servants, giving them orders to take care of her guests, and gave a them a vague, petty reason for her leaving. She grabbed her long, spring coat and her satchel, slipping down the stairs and walking carefully onto the first floor, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She opened the door, it creaking a little bit. She glanced over her shoulder, no one was here, the ballroom completely deserted. Maybe she was being too secretive...

Clary jumped off the steps, striding on the slick cobblestone sidewalk. It was sprinkling, dark clouds covering the moon, the usual glow it gave diminished and leaving Clary in a dark world. The Midnight Flowers that lined the path were dark as well, what usually glowed was tucked in tight. She pulled the hood around her head, drawing the cloak tighter to her. It was mostly resilient to the rain, but for hours, she wasn't sure especially if it got worse. Cl;ary looked at the dark sky fearfully and nervously, hoping for the best.

**1 Hour later**

It got much worse. The pounding rain seemed never-ending, pounding buckets on her. She shivered uncontrollably. Her teeth had started to chatter, and once it had happened once, she couldn't stop. She had never felt so wet and cold for so long in her whole life. The light jacket seemed all but useless to her, cold wind splattering droplets over her face over and over and over... She felt miserable, trudging through the thick mud that used to be a "road," her feet sticking and becoming heavier with each step. She couldn't imagine being warm again, ever.

Everything was dark, the drizzling rain hiding what ever could be out in Idris at night. She shivered, not just from the cold, but in fear. One of the many things she had learned about being a Shadowhunter was to be alert and know your surroundings. She cursed herself for not bringing her witchlight; at least that might allow a few feet visible in front of her. She hugged her slick arms trying to give herself warmth, hunching over in a desperate attempt to shelter herself from the cruel wind. Her hair was soaked as well, cold streams trickling down her back through her shirt.

She felt so exhausted, nothing looked better than that wet ground next to the road. She blinked drowsily, but shook her head, trying to clear away the wooziness. It worked, but she felt again the icy sting of the rain. The weather was so odd, there should never be really cold rainstorms in the middle of summer, maybe spring, but not now. She wondered vaguely what was happening in the heavens to make it this strange and cold.

She could feel it coming again, but Clary shook her head again, denying the warm feeling. She had to get to Jace. He had to know that she knew. He had to know everything about Jonathon, about Jocelyn...he had to know everything. And so she trudged on.

**Yes a little chapter, but didn't I warn you all? I did, didn't I. next chapter she'll arrive at Ironwork stop and learn a lot about Jace and what he's doing right now...Yes, you'll know his plan (most of it, mind you...) **

**please be nice review for me...You don't know how much I love them.-L**


	21. Chapter 21

** You guys are fantastic. Great job to all those who have been reviewing and following and favoriting! This story has been awesome because of you!**

**-L**

**Chapter 21**

The only thing that kept Clary going was Jace. She had to to see him, she had to get to him, she had to hold him again. He still loved her, despite all the mistakes she had made, and she loved, despite everything he had done to her. He had thought her a murderer, a cold-blooded monster, but still loved her. And he had lead her to believe that he was so cold and distant that he was adulterous, and she still loved him. They had both been so prideful and stubborn, why had they kept themselves apart?

She thought then about Jonathon, and how he knew who the Midnight Flower was. Would he be ready to arrest her husband when Jace arrived in Alicante? She realized all the foul deeds she had committed to save her mother, condemned her husband in effect. It was either him or Jocelyn. How could one be saved? Without her Jace in the Gard, then Jocelyn would be arrested and killed instead. How could she choose one over the other. " She had to warn him." she thought resolutely in the rain. She didn't care if Jonathon found out. Kill her along with her loved ones was good enough for her. She walked faster through the rain, a light penetrating the haziness of the night. She had been walking for hours on end, finally passing into the Brocelind Forest. The canopy of trees protected her somewhat from the onslaught of the rain, now only a drizzle. The Ironwork Stop glowed dimly in front of her, less than twenty yards away.

She ran into the clearing, climbing the rickety porch steps, and pounding on the door. Simon opened it, peering at her. "Clary? What-"

"Where's Jace?" she blurted.

He stares at her in shock. She probably looked a little insane. She could feel her eyes bulging, her hair clinging to her face, her voice desperate. "Clary, what are you doing here?"

"I need Jace. I have to talk to him."

Simon narrowed his eyes at her, "And why do you think he would be here?"

"Because I know he's the Midnight Flower and you're an accomplice of his."

His mouth dropped, blinking rapidly. "How-"

"I found the ring in his desk." she explained, pushing past him into the warm inn, heading straight to the fireplace. She rubbed her hands together, trying to return the warmth to them.

"But-"

Isabelle burst in, smiling, but it wiped immediately when she saw her friends state. "By the Angel, what's wrong? Why didn't you use a carriage?" the room was completely deserted.

"What time is it?"

They both exchanged looks. "It's past three AM, Clary."

"What are you two still doing up, then?"

Again, a shared glance. Simon shifted awkwardly. "Well, you see, I can't-"

"If it's about Jace, tell me now. I know already." she told him urgently.

"Just because you know, doesn't mean I can tell you anything. I know one person who I wouldn't trust, and he knows the Midnight Flower's identity. Same goes for you as well." he looked at his feet.

"Am I not trustworthy?!" she yelled.

Simon jumped, rubbing his hands together. "Considering the whole incident with the Blackthorn family, and then Jonathon-"

"I didn't do that on purpose!"

"We don't know that for sure."

She stared at Simon, mouth agape. She looked to Isabelle next to him for support, but she remained quiet, her eyes fixed on the floor.

"Well then, I guess my information isn't trustworthy, even if it means danger to the Midnight Flower."

They both looked at her then, confused. "Jonathon knows about Jace, and who he is. He made a deal with me..." she paused, not expecting this to be the first time to confess the truth to anyone, "He said that he had intercepted a note from the Midnight Flower, which mentioned my mother helping them trying to save Luke. And so he threatened to turn in the information and have Jocelyn arrested, as long as I helped him find out who the Midnight Flower was, he would burn the evidence once he had him in Alicante." she stopped, waiting for them to sink it all in.

Simon's dark eyes were huge, "You mean...you can only save Jocelyn if Jace is to be put to death?"

She closed her eyes, nodding. Simon took a deep breath. "We have to stop him."

"What do you mean? Why now?"

"Because he's on this mission to save Luke right now, with the help of your mother." he paused, "Well, he's supposed to, but with this weather, we can't be sure. At least the execution will be on hold until this rain lets up."

"Is Jace on the road, then?"

"He should be in Alicante, at least. He won't be doing anything tonight, but in two days, that's when the saving is scheduled."

"We have to go find him." she said determinedly.

"Umm, well. I don't think we should..."

"Why not?!"

"Because that's not in my orders." he said with a little more confidence.

"Orders?" she shook her head, astounded.

"Jace told me not to visit him, nor should I distract him from anything."

At this, Isabelle slapped his shoulder. "This is important! Jonathon probably has a plan ready for whoever tries to save Luke. We have to tell him to come up with a different plan."

Simon looked from Izzy to Clary. "You know the plan," she told Simon, "and I have information. You need to take me to Alicante." this wasn't a question, it was a statement that would be obeyed through any measures.

He sighed. "Who am I to go against two women?"

**Short again, but these go super fast, so updates will be sooner for now on. Even though not much has been happening these two chapters, tell me what you predict will happen at the end, just for fun.**

**-L**


	22. Chapter 22

**This a bit more normal sized I think to what my chapters used to be before my ridiculous long ones and my ridiculous short ones. Fantastic job to everyone who is reviewing and hitting the favorite and follow button! Love you all! And to those who aren't, it isn't that big of a deal is it? Just hit one button and I'll be so happy and motivated for days!**

**You guys are awesome!**

**-L**

**Chapter 22 **

**Clary**

The drive was completely quiet and sullen. The silence was uncomfortable, making Clary shift in her seat awkwardly from time to time. The rainclouds still hung dim and dark, allowing Simon to be comfortable and not have to cover the windows with one of his own creations: a smooth, steel black panel that could be hooked over his carriage windows. Simon had a stony expression, obviously not at all keen to be seeing Jace so soon. Isabelle had volunteered to stay behind and look after the inn. She hadn't looked too happy, but she denied any attempt of Simon's to stay home.

Heavy raindrops still splattered on Clary's window. She sighed, wondering how long it was going to stay so dark and dreary. They had been driving for more than three hours, nearing around 8 o'clock AM. Her butt was grower sorer and sorer when two little pinpricks broke the horizon: the Demon Towers, looking more like iron than glss in the gray, dismal world surrounding them.

"Simon," she alerted, "I can see the towers."

"Really?" his eyebrows raised.

She nodded, and thought of how much she had messed everything up. "Where will he be staying?"

Simon stared out the window, "The other side of town, I believe. It's a really small and dirty pub, a couple of bedrooms that no one should be sleeping in."

"Why is he staying there?" she asked, a little aghast. They had plenty of money to spend as they pleased.

"Staying somewhere High-end would draw attention to himself; he probably knows most of the rich people. However, in a run-down inn, he could stay there for days without so much as a word of his arrival in Alicante."

"Oh...But how long is he going to be there?"

Simon shrugged. "Not sure. Until this rain holds up, probably."

"So we could catch him and warn him then, right?" she asked excitedly.

"Most likely." Simon answered vaguely. Clary had the itching sense that Simon still didn't fully trust her.

The road to Alicante was extremely muddy and tough to drive through. Because it was well traveled, the mud was in thick ridges from all the previous wheels rolling its way to the city. This took them forever to ride through, their coach grumbling so loudly that Clary and Simon could hear almost every complaint coming out of his mouth.

After another two hours of traveling slowly on the highway, getting stuck behind several carts going the same way. They eventually stopped, waiting inspection. Simon crouched and lifted an unseen handle behind Clary's feet. He climbed in, tucking himself in a cramped, curled up ball.

He nodded to her, and Clary closed the little door, Simon disappearing from sight.

It only took several minutes when a guard came up to her window, asking her to step out. She followed his directions, nervously watching him check the carriage into the lightening rain. Her heart raced as he looked at the floor, her body feeling oddly jumpy, especially when he stared at the floor, right where the hidden latch was. She held her breath and almost sighed when he passed on, nodding to her. She tried not to look suspicious, but she was still bouncing lightly on her heels, her hands wringing and twisting behind her back. He luckily didn't seem to notice.

"All set to go, Ma'am." The man told her, smiling friendly at Clary. His black hair was soaking wet, along with all his clothes. His nose was red from the cold. He looked no younger than 19, his green eyes still alight with youth but bloodshot from exhaustion. She felt a sudden sadness for this boy, mislead and probably confused his parents and government.

"Thank you sir."She told him kindly.

"In you go then." He helped her up into the carriage, Clary plopping down on the cushioned seat, and almost laughing in relief for getting in Alicante without being caught. The boy passed onto the next cart behind her. "It wasn't even that scary!" she told herself. She had heard that the inspections were extremely thorough and that barely any Downworlder could get in. Maybe they didn't care much about who could go in as much as getting out. Of course, any Downworlder trying to get into Alicante was beyond her- it was practically suicide. The leaving carts were probably harder to pass.

The coach started again, Clary hearing his complaints about the ungodly weather in this ungodly hour, these ungodly people dragging him out here to do their ungodly work. She exhaled a much needed breath and sighed. She tapped on the floor with her foot. "We're clear now, Simon." She informed him.

She heard a muffled response, and all remained silent until they had reached the tall, black gates, laced with silver, electrum, and iron. The doors were already open, letting in the stream of workers and people from outside. People bustled around the street, money in hand to buy goods, or visiting with a friend. Most people were shouting to be heard. as they passed further toward the Gard, the houses grew grander and grander- of course not as beautiful as the Herondale Estate, nor as big. Each house was had their doorways covered in runes, most of them protection runes. She snorted sat it all, they weren't even in mild danger!

Clary wondered then, how close her mother was- their house was only a few blocks away. She remembered then the marble fountain in her backyard, the porch swing hanging on the two huge trees, where she and Jace had had their first kiss, or well, her first kiss anyway. It had paled in comparison to her neighbors now that she thought about it, but back in her childhood, she had thought it the most beautiful and lovely house ever built. But then they turned on a different street, the opposite direction of her old home, and Clary told herself to stop living in the past. Living in the past was what had gotten her in this mess, anyway.

She stiffened as they got closer to the Gard, which was heavily covered in huge gardens, probably growing for centuries. In some places she saw bare patches of upturned, black soil, like some pants had been torn uproot from their homes. She wondered why on earth they'd get rid of a flower when she realized what flower had been killed and turned out; the Midnight Flowers. She smirked at the thought. If they were getting rid of those flowers, then they most likely were scared of Jace. His resistance was creating fear among the government officials, and she silently reveled in it.

The rain had finally stopped, which made her even more urgent to get to Jace before he could carry out any mission. Jonathon had a way of knowing things, and it unnerved her how he did it.

**Jonathon**

The demon appeared in the pentagram, the young Warlock's jaw tensed with strain to control it. "Demon!" Jonathon tried to imitate his father's loud, clear and intimidating voice. "I need an answer."

It forced a raspy chuckle. 'I'll need a bit more information than that, boy." it snarled.

"I am no boy." he growled, narrowing his eyes. "I am son to the most powerful Shadowhunter ever."

"Ahh." it chuckled again. "Your father was always a brat. Of course, the rest of you Shadowhunters are bastards, so I guess that's saying something."

"Anyways," Jonathon breathed, counting to ten, "I need you to answer my question."

It folded its six arms across its torso. "Ask away."

"Where is the Shadowhunter, Jonathon Herondale, residing in right now?"

The demon hummed, closing its many reptilian eyes. "He's….he's…he's in Alicante…at the old pub…called-'

'Yes?" he said urgently.

One of the demon's eyes flicked open, glancing warily at him before closing it again, "In the Undarkened Rooms. He's there…" the demon concentrated, "and he's got his plan ready."

Jonathon grinned maliciously. "Perfect." he purred.

**Clary**

They pulled up in front of the building-well a really large lean-to if you asked Clary. the whole place seemed to tilt to the left, Black paint peeling severely and wooden panels chipping. Above the doorway ( which had no actual door) labeled the place as the Undarkened Rooms. "Nice." she thought. Clary climbed out, tapping on the floor to alert Simon that they were there beforehand. the coach continued a little more before stopping in front of a shack that resembled the state of the "inn" in front of her. He drove in, and she saw him start to unhitch the horses, both of them shining and gleaming from their perspiration and rain.

She ducked inside, looking around her with great distaste. A couple dingy people huddled in corners alone, while a large group of men, about a dozen, stood around a greasy bar, laughing hysterically to each other. A bearded man behind the bar was leaning on his elbows, looking bored until he noticed in his threshold. He wiped his hands down the front of his food splattered apron, maybe once was white, but now less than a yellow.

"Ma'am," he spoke, bowing slightly to her. "Can I help you with anything? I can give you directions if need some. It's easy to get lost back here."

He was being hospitable, but she still blushed with embarrassment. "Ummm…No, I'm not lost, actually. I just…I'm looking for someone."

The man's furry eyebrows flew to his forehead. "Looking for someone? Here? What did he do to you that made you come back and find him?" he laughed. "Or are you keeping it a secret from your mother?"

"No, I don't think you understand-"

"Give up on him, woman, any man staying here isn't worth your time…" he said seriously, before cracking a grin, "Unless of course you enjoy being cheated out of your money?" he started to raor laughing, but Clary didn't know what was so funny. Maybe he drinking a little?

The other men had all finally noticed her, which didn't make her feel all too happy. She had rather gone unnoticed, talked to Jace, and leave. But it didn't look like Jace was there at the moment. "Umm, sir, I need to go check on my horses. If you could, please wait for me here."

"Did you hear that?" he wiped tears from his eyes. "She called me sir!" Clary couldn't help but stare at him- what kind of man acted so loud and stupidly boisterous. His outburst had caught her so off guard, so she hurried to the little building she had seen Simon go in. She hugged herself, her dress still a little damp. She opened the carriage door to find Simon stretching his aching limbs, the hidden door hanging open still. He jumped when she opened it, Simon blinking blearily before focusing. "How goes it?" he rubbed his eyes.

"Jace isn't there." she huffed. "I don't know where he's gone."

"Well, I did warn you didn't I?"

"I know….I just thought-"

"Is this all that is bothering you? Because I am in desperate need of a nap." he said a little rudely.

Her jaw hardened. "No."

Simon nodded, closing his eyes and placing his hands behind his head, legs bent in an awkward angle.

She was about to close the door angrily, when he stopped her. "Don't talk to Jace or reveal yourself to him unless you know you're alone." She sighed, another restriction. She slammed it closed.

She wasn't really mad at Simon, but at herself. She had caused all this. If it wasn't for her, Jonathon wouldn't know The Midnight Flower's true identity. If it wasn't for her, the Blackthorn family would still be living. If wasn't for her, Jace wouldn't have pushed her away. She felt like she could go on and on and on.

She walked into the pub again, all the men turning around to stare at her when she stepped on a creaking floorboard. the bartender was in his original spot, beckoning her toward him. She walked timidly forward, before straightening her shoulders and walking upright and sure to him. "Who are you looking for?" he asked her in hushed tones.

The rest of the men still glanced at her in occasion, but otherwise they had continued their normal conversation. "A man. Wearing rich clothes." he frowned, shaking his head. "Blond? Tall?"

"Ah, yes! I remember him now!" realization dawning on his face.

"Really? When was that?" she asked excitedly, almost jumping in the place where she stood.

""Three days ago. Got a room. Saw him earlier this morning, actually. Told me had some business."

"You mean he's gone?" she rubbed her temple, already despairing.

"Don't worry." he reassured her, "he ordered lunch for himself. So he should be here in about…um, I don't know, three or four hours, at most?"

"Good. Thank you." she said sincerely. "Can you show me where he's staying?"

He considered it for a moment, but then said, "Of course."

He lead her to the stairs, pointing up the narrow staircase. "first door on your right, got it?"

She climbed, closing the door behind her looking at the room before her. His duffel bag lay on the bed, not even unpacked. On the floor lay a make-shift bundle of blankets. Sleeping on that mattress was probably not a good idea unless she liked the idea of getting crabs. She climbed in the bundle, breathing his scent in and closing her eyes, willing herself to relax and finally close her eyes…


	23. Chapter 23

**Sorry it's been so long, I got grounded for a week from anything electronic. Let me tell you, it SUCKED. Deprived from writing andreading is so horrendous and I've had to catch up on all my fanfics. Since I haven't writted or updated in a while, it would be great for you all to review or favorite and follow.**

**Also, AWESOME job to everyone who has done the above! You guys are truly amazing! I send my love but I don't think any of you care for it.**

**-L**

**Chapter 23**

Clary woke up to the door below slamming underneath her, the whole building shivering and shuddering from the force. She immediately recognized the commanding and drawling tones that was after, the voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Jonathon.

She immediately sprang from her makeshift bed as so many thoughts swam incoherently through her head. How had he gotten there? Even more important, _why_ was he here? Did he know that Jace was staying there? If so, how did he know Jace was staying there? Was he going to arrest Jace before Clary could tell him anything? of course, the information would be all but worthless to him if that happened.

Clary crept down the stairs, cringing every time her step would make the wood creak under her. she stopped at the landing and paused by the entryway door. Barely able to make out the muffled conversation, she opened the door just a sliver. Clary pressed her ear against the door, gripping the knob tightly in her tensed hand. She peered through the crack; dark, slinking figures were barely visible in the shadows where they lurked. Jonathon's hair was the only thing that gleamed in the room.

"…place surrounded..." he was saying, "but make sure it's a safe distance away; we don't want him to see one of you and take off running. You," he gestured toward the thing closest to the Clary, "I want you to watch the roads, if you see him come to the inn and go inside, start slowly closing on all sides. He'll be trapped here and will have no way of getting out." he grinned evilly, quite pleased with himself. If he's just passing, attack him immediately, nut don't kill him. Bring him here right away."

it nodded, and Clary finally caught a glimpse of the demon he was commanding. It was tall and hunched over due to the lack of space in the small inn with so many red, bloodshot eyes covering its black body. It was misshapened, lumps protruding from its head and arms. All the eyes seemed to blink in unison at him, but all looking in many different directions. Clary shrunk back, scared that maybe he had seen her at some point, but when it made no eminent move to reveal her as it left the inn, with more than a dozen others, she relaxed just a little bit.

How had Jonathon managed to get demons inside the city? The borders should've been keeping them out.

There were only two demons left on opposite ends of the room, their rotting hides filling the room with such a prodigious stench. It was like death and hell had mixed together an odor so foul, people would gag and struggle to breath. It was, in fact, so strong that the bartender had come bustling in, sniffing loudly from the kitchens.

He jumped about three feet in the air, his eyes taking up half his face when he took in the towering demons standing there casually, as if to order a drink. "d-d-d-DEMONS!" he finally screamed before Jonathon grabbed his throat.

"If you make one more sound I will crush your airway till it internally explodes and you'll drown in your own blood and of the pain at the same time." he snarled. Clary didn't think this was physically possible, but it had the desired effect; the man whimpered, trembling and quivering, his hands hung limply at his sides. "Now.." he paused sardonically, "I believe one of your customers ordered supper, is that right?" the man nodded, shakily as he stared at the two demons on either ends of his own room, his face slowly growing from red to purple as Jonathon tightened his grip. The man gasped, foaming at the mouth.

He finally released him, the bartender collapsing and gagging on the floor. He remained crouched there on his hands and knees. He grasped his throat pathetically, taking in deep gasps of air. Jonathon had only stood there when he began to grow impatient. "Get up! Get up!" he said, his word ever increasing in volume, "I SAID…GET UP, YOU PATHETIC WORM! WHEN I GIVE ORDERS THEY ARE OBEYED IMMEDIATELY!" he kicked the man repeatedly in the gut, his temper flaring with each kick.

He scrambled up hastily, clutching his stomach and bolted out the door, the way to the kitchen swinging in his wake. "Peasants." he snarled, "Useless creatures, aren't they?" the demons nodded vigorously until a loud creak; Clary guessed it was the door to and from the outdoors and inside.

"I find them quite charming, if I do say so myself." Clary's whole heart perked up, jumping unexpectedly at his voice. Even if she couldn't see him, she knew that voice, with its silky undertones, deep pitch. The one thing that had made her feel like she was going insane, but the one that she loved with perhaps all her heart. It was the one that provoked and comforted, yelled and calmed, distanced and charmed her. The one voice Clary had enjoyed memorizing like the back of her hand with all its many different passions. "I mean, they listen to every word you say…no matter whatever horrors you do to them. What's so bad about them anyway?"

He finally came into view, his tall, lean body ambling his way to Jonathon. His blonde hair curled wimpishly on his forehead; everything about him looked a little wilted: from his hair to his clothes, to his tired face, but his eyes still shone excitedly despite any fatigue he might've been feeling at that time. Clary could feel her heart racing at the sight of him, surprise and worry building up in her throat, to where she thought she might explode from hiding from him, to not tell him everything and how wrong he had been and how right he had been about her.

Jonathon looked just as surprised and worried as she did, his head whipping so fast to look at him that she was sure that he could've snapped his neck. Of course, all these feelings were in different circumstances. He quickly wiped any emotion of astonishment of his face and replaced it with ease, arrogance, and surety. "Jace." he sneered.

he began walking a small circle around him, smirking a little. "When talking to superiors, like myself, one usually refers to them as Mr. or Mrs. In this situation," he walked back around, "You'd refer to me as _Mr. Herondale_." his smirk grew wider into a placid grin.

Jonathon's hands were clenched in fists at his sides. "I won't-"

"Let's try that out, shall we?" Jace cut in, placid to now sardonic.

He purpled in rage. Clary wanted to spring out and embrace him, but the demons were shifting uneasily, obviously they weren't used to their master being treated this way. She remembered Simon's odd request to stay out of sight and reveal herself to Jace when they were alone and no one watching them. She clenched harder on the handle, the only thing keeping her from running out and staying grounded where she was.

"Come on, let's have a go." Jace was trying to keep in his laughing.

"Mr. Herondale." he ground his teeth together, jaw tensing.

"Good…good," he smiled, "And you are?"

"I think you bloody well now who I am." Jonathon spat.

"Forgive me for my memory. I don't usually remember someone unless they are significantly important." he said indignantly.

"Jonathon." he sounded very strained.

"Can I call you Johnny?"

"what?"

"Can I call you Johnny?" he repeated.

"But-wait…er…why…" he stumbled, completely thrown off guard. Clary felt the urge to laugh at him so flustered, but she bit her tongue. "NO, no you may _not_."

"Alright…Johnny." he added.

"I said-" he made a loud, frustrated sound I the back of his throat."Never mind. You're-You're just distracting me!" he realized, "Buying you time to mess around with me?"

Jace blinked. "Whatever do you mean?"

Jonathon shook his head. "Always so clever…as usual." he sneered.

"Distracting you from what?" he stopped pacing around him.

"From your arrest." he said proudly, probably relieved that things were going more to plan. He glanced out the windows for a split second, checking to see any demons coming nearer.

"My arrest?" his expression showed shock, but Clary could tell it was feigned. He put a hand up to his chest. "For what?"

"You know very well what you've done!" he said with exasperation.

"In this case, I have no idea what you are talking about." he said serenely, sitting down so that all Clary could see of him was his crossed ankles. "If you could elaborate?"

Jonathon glared wearily at him, "You've planned and acted in traitorous acts against Idris. Not to mention broken several Shadowhunter laws-"  
"What laws have I broken…Johnny?" he said for his own amusement.

Jonathon ignored that last part, jumping on this immediately, "You've been harboring and saving Downworlders under the name, The Midnight Flower."

jace laughed despite himself, chuckling quietly. "What? What's so funny?" Jonathon suddenly sounded nervous , his demon guards tensing.

"I just-I just find it funny…" jace laughed, "That it took you this long." he stood up so that Clary could see him again.

His eyes flared with revenge "I knew it! _I knew it!_ I was right!" he exclaimed.

But Jace continued to laugh to himself. "What? What is it now?"

He looked at him, pretending to wipe away a fake tear. "You have no idea what's coming to you." he grinned without humor, more ominous smile.

Jonathon looked unnerved by this. Clary's hands were beginning to cramp, but she didn't let go of the knob. Despite her aching hands and back, she hunched even closer to the crack.

his jaw tensed. "Nor you." he stated coolly, glancing out the windows. She could see shadows moving outside; the feeling of hopelessness grew in the pit of her stomach.

"I welcome your surprise then." Jace appeared unruffled. "Even if it is already known to me."

He tried not to look bothered. "And I know all your plans, as well, because of your dear, little wife."

The bartender came trembling in, throwing a worried glance at Jonathon and the demons. He held a bowl of soup and two wineglasses on a tin tray. Jace nodded a thank you, and sat down. She assumed he began to eat, much to the annoyance of Jonathon. He wanted Jace's full attention to celebrate his success.

Clary wondered why he didn't just arrest Jace already; he had his demons outside, trapping Jace in here. But she realized, he was gloating. He wanted this time to shove in Jace's face that he had won. She wanted to yell to him to run, but how on earth could he do that without having Jonathon attack him? Or the demons?

He scooted his chair closer to the table so she could see half his face. He was slurping some kind of soup or stew."My wife?" he repeated disinterestedly, glancing around the room his eyes seemed to pause a little on where she was hiding place. She pressed closer to the sliver of light, hoping that he could see her there. Her voice caught in her throat.

"Yes, Clary," he said obviously, delighted and persevering despite Jace's lack of interest to the subject. He sounded quite pleased to tattle on her. "your wife has betrayed several times over."

"Has she?" he sounded dull cold, still spooning the contents of the bowl into his mouth.

He nodded vigorously, "Oh, yes. Hse's helped me find several pieces of information, specifically about this night, actually." he gestured around the room.

"I hope you have some benefit to her treachery, though I doubt it will help." he replied coolly, wiping his mouth on a napkin. He pulled a bottle of white wine from the recesses of his long jacket and uncorked it. "I give you dearest wishes that you will succeed, Johnny, but I'm 100 percent sure that you will lose." he poured the clear liquid into both wineglasses, offering one to Jonathon. He took it gratefully, lifting it. "To Idris."

"To Idris." he murmured. Both men brought it to their lips, Jonathon taking a lrge swig and gulping it down, while Jace barely touched his lips to the rim. Just a split second later, Jonathon began choking, collapsing on the floor and clutching his throat. The demons immediately closed in to Jace, who brandished out two seraph blades using both to easily subdue the surprised demons.

"What..what-was…that…" Jonathon managed, rolling on the floor in agony.

"Bleach mixed with a little bit of vinegar." he smiled before leaping out the window, the sound of shattering glass echoing out and inside.


	24. Chapter 24

**I'm ahead finally! I've got the next chapter written out but has to be typed still. So if I get a bit more reviews, I might be a little more motivated to revise it faster.**

**I love you half a dozen reviewers! Including RonaldGarcia91, IChangedForYou, KyKat, and ifyouknew! You guys are truly amazing!**

**Also, I'm going to be starting another fanfic over the summer that's going to be really awesome! Well, I don't know how you'll all feel about it by the end, but you'll remember it, definitely.**

**Oh, and if you see a fanfic in Supernatural that's about a marching band that uses instruments of torture instead of normal instruments any time soon…That was my idea. So when I have a fantasy novel written, it will be in there!**

**So without much further ado,**

**-L**

**Chapter 24**

Jonathon seemed to be getting worse. He was retching all over the floor, every form of substance in his stomach forcing itself through his throat. She cringed, having a great overwhelming urge to throw herself out the window Jace had done previously before. Had it only been five minutes ago?

But she saw Jonathon recovering, getting up on his knees and clutching his throat. He crawled out of sight, avoiding pools of his own vomit. Clary heard the door open, the hinges creaking loudly. Then a shuffling of feet and more gasps from him; then a rasping voice, "We lost him."

"You..what?" he wheezed

"I've-I've never seen anyone go so fast. We were closing in, like you told us to, and we were right by the window, actually, when he burst out of the place, swinging his sword and jumping into the night. He ran off into the street, but we couldn't find him after that; we didn't want to be seen.

"You…let…him…get away?" he snarled, still struggling to not throw up all over himself.

"We've never-" she heard a yell and a slash, followed by an awful, unearthly shriek then a sick. squelching noise. Clary shrunk further away from the door, the demon not speaking again. Jonathon moved again into her line of sight, muttering swear words and covered in thick, black blood. He sat down in the chair Jace had been in just a few minute ago and pulled out a stele, drawing a healing rune on his bicep. He sighed a little, as the rune took the desired effect.

More shuffling feet came in as the door opened. "What do we do now?" came a nervous, scratching voice.

"Go see if you can find anyone who saw where he went or where he's going." he commanded angrily, straightening his spine to not show the pain he'd just been in. One set left hurriedly, while the rest shifted awkwardly. "It doesn't matter about covertness now, we have to get Jace Herondale." he added, really rationalizing with himself than talking to the demons.

It was more than half an hour before it came back, Jonathon taking to pacing back and forth around the room anxiously. When it finally returned, it had an old man with him. He was old and crumpled, a look of intense fear dominating his sagging, wrinkled face. His clothes might've been nice once, but now they were well worn out with frayed cuffs and hems along with patched up holes at the elbows and knees.

"Who is this?" he snapped, walking toward the man.

"A mundane servant." it stated plainly. The reaction had its effect; he recoiled immediately away from the old , trembling man, taking a few steps back. He recovered quickly though, narrowing his eyes and prepared to begin his interrogation. 'Why…why, By the Angel did you bring him here?"

"He said he saw the Shadowhunter leave." it answered with distaste.

He jumped. "Where did you see him?"

"Now, I don't give out useful information for free, boy." he chuckled, becoming less nervous. He held out an expecting hand. This was something he was experienced in.

"I'll pay you when your information is proven helpful, _old man_." he sneered coldly, folding his arms business-like, but making sure to keep a safe distance from the old man, never looking him in the eye, as if he could contract a deathly disease from maintaining contact.

The old man's sagging face frowned, crow's feet deeply indented between his eyes. He bared his teeth, most chipped and broken. He answered distastefully and begrudgingly, "The lad was trying to use the Lightwood Carriage." at this, Clary frowned. Simon and her had rode in it the way here. Had he left already? Maybe hearing the commotion inside and gone to tell Jace, or at least help him? Had he gotten an errand from Jace already? "I offered him my master's carriage or horse, but he declined of course, and got into the carriage and took off." his voice sounded like two rough stones being ground together. Clary felt a burning hate for this man the more he kept talking. This person who was slowly depriving her husband's assurance in life.

"Did he say where he was going?" Jonathon asked eagerly, despite himself.

"Yeah…" he scratched his head, "Something about…oh! The lake, yes. He was going to the lake. That's where he's gone!" he looked so excited and proud of himself.

"Why?" Jonathon wondered out loud. "Tonight's his supposed rescue of Luke Garroway…he must have him held there!" he realized. "Anything else? I mean…the lake is too out in the open for him. Is there any place near the lake that would be good for hiding?""

"Yes, yes!" he sang, glad he could be of so much help. "I know of a place he could be hiding! There's-there's a boathouse right by the shore, by the forest's edge. It should be right next to the portal patrol."

But Jonathon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do you know this, mundane?" he asked slowly.

The old man stuttered. "Been there myself several times, sir. Ever since I was a boy. Older than I am, that building is." he finished less shakily, "That's all I know."

Jonathon gave a wide berth around the servant and out of sight to Clary's line of vision.

"Find some form of transportation-"

"I have, well, my master Starkweather does anyway, a few horses and a carriage.

"Good. We'll use Mr. Starkweather's carriage and pay him back later. All of you…start ahead and get over the wall without being seen. We don't need an uproar about demons in the city, especially with all the…disagreements going on right now.

Disagreements? With what? Clary pressed her ear harder against the door but Jonathon did not elaborate.

"Head to the lake and meet us up there."

"Us?" squeaked the old man, already guessing what he had in mind.

"Yes, you and I. You'll be driving the carriage, of course. How on earth do I know whether or not your information is valid? If it is, you'll be rewarded. If it isn't..." Jonathon clucked his tongue disapprovingly, "There'll be consequences. " Jonathon left, the now cowering man following timidly and followed by his gang of demons.

The moment the door closed, Clary sprung from her hiding place. She ran immediately to the kitchen door and looked inside; the place was completely deserted. The bartender must've ran off. Smart man. She hurried to the end door, where the carriage house was right next to. She glanced down the narrow alleyway and was glad to see that it was empty. She pulled open the heavy, sliding doors, not stopping despite the loud, groaning noise it was making. Inside, it was bare other than the heavy dust that floated in the air. She sneezed, always being very sensitive to dust mites.

_Where had Simon gone?_

She mulled over that question for a while, pacing back and forth. Through her impatience and anxious path, Clary stepped on something that crunched. Hoping it was what she thought it was, she looked down and lifted her foot. It was a white piece of paper, wrinkled from her pacing.

It read:

**Clary, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this in person, but I couldn't risk being seen. I've gone to pick up Jace at the old Lightwood housevand take him to the boathouse by the lake. Your mother will be there, along with Luke for Jade to take them both to safety. I don't know where he's taking them; he hasn't told me anything about it. But I told you all this in hopes that you'll be able to catch up in time. I'm hiding somewhere in the city right now that won't reveal in here.**

**Warn him. Sometimes he thinks that he's invisible. He doesn't know everything, however much he wishes to.**

**-S**

Clary read it over several times. It was too late. What was the use of warning him if he already knew everything? But a force was driving her, one that was much stronger than anything she'd ever felt. She knew one thing, she had to get to Jace and her mother. the nagging feeling that everything was about to go amiss was nagging at her.

Maybe she could just follow Jonathon and somehow make it past the gates unnoticed. Jace of course had no idea that Jonathon had succeeded in thwarting his plans. Clary made up her decision, she would go after him. Jace could somehow change the plan, tell Jocelyn to leave for anywhere, somehow get the mesage to her, and Jace run as far away as she could. But this seemed impossible. But, she argued, Jace had yet to fail her in anything that seemed impossible since the moment she'd known him.

**So things are about to start to go crazy, I've got finals coming up, so I'll be studying (Ugh, I know) and working on study guides and all things study, so I have no idea when I can update; it will definitely be a bit random.**

**So, Question: Would you like an epilogue after everything is figured out?**

**Please do everything I keep telling you all to do. Let's get the number up a bit more, please!**

**-L**


	25. Chapter 25

**Wow, you guys! I thought for a while a lot of you died or something. Last chapter was great! Let's have another great one. I'm feeling the calm before the storm with the end of school. We get out on the 28th, so it's weird that I'm not feeling any pressure right now. Good for you, then!**

**Well, I hope you enjoy!**

**-L**

**Chapter 25**

**Jonathon**

Jonathon stopped his band of demons at the corner of the next street, hiding in the shadows of several, large trees. They circled, trying to hear better at what their present master was saying. "I want you all to go over the wall together, but four of you stay and wait for me. I need guards with me if I'm traveling by carriage-" he grabbed the mundane who was trying to inconspicuously creep away. He shoved him toward the nearest demon, not looking at the either of the mangy creatures. "Watch him." he commanded.

"Now, as I was saying, the rest of you continue and go to the lake and see any signs of someone there recently, and come back immediately." he said. "Oh, and one more thing: don't kill him…yet." he smiled devilishly. He was finally going to get Jace, have enough evidence against him. Of course, a justified death was too good for him, nothing he deserved. Burning was too lenient for all his crimes. Maybe his father would allow a little nastier death for him, _specially for him_.

**Clary**

She watched as Jonathon climbed into his carriage, the mundane trembling as he shook the reins. The demons dispersed in all directions, quietly weaving their way through the cobblestone paths. Seeing that the road was clear she started down the street and turned the corner, Jonathon rolling his way up the side alley.

**Time lapse**

She followed the black carriage for a long time, occasionally tripping in the dark. They were close to reaching the front gates,(the only ones that stayed open 24/7) from which she could see from the large hill they were going cautiously down.

Clary tried to decide how she was going to do this. She couldn't very well climb in with Jonathon, or jump up to sit next to the ancient driver. And she couldn't leave the city without being stopped by the patrol. So the only way to leave the city without being noticed was to get on the carriage without anyone's knowledge. Her mind formed the plan, her eyes flitting to each part of it. She wished she had trained a little more since coming here; her upper arm and leg strength was probably very weak. And she expected that Jonathon would be allowed through without any thorough inspection, he was valentine's son, why would he be harboring Downworlders?

Clary drew two, fast runes: one was strength, and the other was silence. She ran then, springing from her place as the carriage rolled farther and farther away. Sprinting to catch up, Clary felt that exhilarating excitement that made her heart pound and blood pulse faster and faster. It was something she hadn't felt in so long, that the experience was altogether almost new to her.

Clary grabbed the horizontal bar, cringing as the whole carriage shook from her pulling. She twisted her arms so that she faced the city, her back to the ever coming gate. She bent her knees and crouched, her feet now lightly brushing on the street, her ruined, blue dress dragging pathetically. She ducked under the bar; she was now under the cart. Clary looked above her, glancing over the two boards lines parallel to each other, just far enough to squeeze a body between.

This would be the hard part; lifting her feet so that she could some how support her body and lift it as well so that she could cave herself into that tiny space. Her body trembling, she brought her left foot up, and pressed it against the farther part of one board, and did the same with her right. Clary was then only holding onto the bar with her hands, half suspended in the air, her feet bent a little awkwardly. Now this was the most difficult. Letting go of the bar with one hand, she did the same thing she did with her legs; pressing and holding onto the board, while her other arm shook like crazy, supporting her whole upper half of her body. Taking a deep breath, she repeated the motion again, only about ten times quicker. Clary was then rolling on with them, supporting her whole body between the two boards beneath the carriage.

She almost laughed, relieved that her plan had worked, unlike it usually did. Normally it would fail horribly and she'd get caught. But tonight, it seemed luck was a little on her side. The carriage only stopped a minute afterward. Heavy footsteps moved to the stopped cart, tapping on the window, a gruff voice began asking to check his carriage. She heard Jonathon's response, "Don't you know who I am?" he asked very rudely.

It took a couple seconds, but then came the rushed apology, "Oh! Sorry sir! Didn't know who you were! Please forgive me!" the man groveled.

"Yes, yes. Just shut up and let me pass through." Jonathon said impatiently.

It started up again, and Clary saw the gates quietly pass by, the cart swinging around the walls to the east gate, where there was a large hill that could hide them. The old man drove through the grass, leaving the muddy road and going onto a wild trail. Tall, wild grass constantly brushed her back, occasionally some finding some way into her mouth. It was very irritating to her skin, her nose in need of a serious itching. Her arms were beginning to tire, the trembling starting up in her biceps, and then traveling down her forearms to her wrists. Her leg muscles were as well, a burning sensation growing in her calves and ankles from the odd position they were in.

Right when Clary felt like she couldn't hold up any longer, it lurched to a stop. The carriage bounced awkwardly as Jonathon climbed out, making her muscles scream in agony. She clamped her mouth closed to keep from gasping. She heard a few, unearthly sounds to her right coming ever closer and gathering in a circle around Jonathon's booted feet. They began discussing something very quietly, the demons hissing in agreement occasionally.

Now was the perfect time to get off and follow him from afar. She had given up the thought of trying to get to Jace, he was nearly two hours ahead of them on a carriage. How could she even hope to catch up with him? No, follow Jonathon was the best she could do, despite how hopeless and useless she was feeling.

She slowly released the side of the board with one hand, while the other clenched even tighter. One hand now pressed onto the wet ground, she did the same with her other hand. Then she dropped both her legs, making her feel like a cat ready to jump and spring. Clary began crawling away into the brush, hoping that her flaming hair didn't stand out too much against the golden yellow. She could almost imagine Jace in her place, able to spy and foil his enemy's plan, his blonde hair matching perfectly with the tall grass around him. She felt a sudden yearning, a disappointment if anything, for missing out on the adventures he'd had. Clary cursed Jonathon for messing everything up between them. Maybe if things had been different, they could've experienced everything together.

Her knee snapped a twig beneath her, she immediately disciplining herself to pay more attention. She slowly turned her head and froze, her blood felt like it was freezing. The old man's head was snapping in every direction to see the source of the noise, when his eyes finally rested on the place exactly where Clary hid. She stayed where she was, maybe if she was still, he would excuse her as a passing wind, or a fox hunting. But his eyes only narrowed, not taking his cold eyes from where she was. A horrible few seconds passed and he began to get up from his seat, Clary's heart beating fast. But a yell cam from Jonathon. "You! Don't you try to leave you coward! One more time I see you try to leave, and you'll be punished!" he snarled. "Go onward, I don't need Jace to get even further from me."

She could hear him grumbling to himself, sitting back down and giving her spot one more weary look, he shook the reins and the horses began to trot down the bumpy path. She was glad she was walking; the huge bounds and leaps the carriage was taking seemed highly uncomfortable for one's buttocks. When it was a safe distance away, and the demons were patrolling up front (he wasn't worried about an attack from behind him) she started her path in the heavy brush. She wanted to go on the road, but it was too out in the open for her taste if something unexpected happened. So she uncomfortably trudged through the mid-waist prairie grass.

**Time lapse**

Clary's nice dress had gone through so much. She first had walked through muddy roads for several hours, getting rain soaked. Then she slept on it for several hours, so many creases and wrinkles one couldn't tell which was seam and which wasn't. And then the hem had dragged while she clung to the bottom of the carriage. Now, after walking through a mile of wild grass, it had slowly turned to be a very dense forest; the outer edges of Brocelind. Thorns ripped through the threadbare cloth, her arms stinging whenever it would scratch her again. Her skirt constantly got caught in bushes and brambles, to the point it was such a torn up mess, that she ripped it to her knees, which was much easier to walk.

Clary wiped some blood from her cheek that gad slowly trickled down from a particularly wicked branch. She was a safe distance away from the carriage, which had stopped due to some of the demons coming back from scouting ahead. She had seen this and run to catch up. Any information she could hear was priceless.

"...but some came after we waited." said one demon with a slow, deep voice.

"Did you see who it was?" Jonathon sounded highly excited.

"A man and a woman. She had really bright, red hair. The man looked weak."

"Perfect" she could almost hear him smiling.

Clary felt a panicky quiver in her stomach. That horrible old man... she wanted to strangle him! He had ruined everything. Then again, Jonathon had ruined everything, too.

"Did you hear anything they were saying?" as if things couldn't get worse.

"They went into this little house-"

"The boathouse!" he exclaimed.

"-and she pulled out a piece of paper and started to talk about it."

"What did it say?"

"Not sure, sir."

"Then why... did you come back!?" he yelled.

"Because they talked about it."

"Why didn't you say so?" he said impatiently.

"Because we didn't know what was in it specifically."

"Fine." he sighed, "What did he say about it?"

"It was a she, sir."

"JUST TELL ME!"

"Sorry, master." the scratchy voice said. "She talked about how to get to the their destination, and how a flower will take them there. It's through a portal by the lake. They attacked the patrol and gave him a sleeping rune so he wouldn't give them any trouble."

"Good...they have no idea what's coming to them." he grinned again, rubbing his hands in devilish excitement and anticipation. "And the others? Where are they?"

"There are four surrounding it right now, sir."

"Completely surrounded." he laughed, "Tonight... no one will ever forget it."

**So, due to everyone's response, I will make an epilogue! It will be great, and the climax is coming up soooo soon!**

**To those that wanted to know what my next story is about, check my profile.**

**And also, question: in the beginning, you all wanted Jace's POV. So, do you want me to create another story, with just a couple of chapters on his? If so, tell me which ones you want! I have a few already in mind.**

**And another also, someone mentioned a second story, which I'm totally okay with, because I already have a few ideas that would be so cool, like Clary helping Jace with all his MF stuff and missions. If it was to happen, it'd just be an extension of this story, so It would just keep going after the epilogue.**

**Your thoughts?**

**Please review!**

**-L**


	26. Chapter 26

**Alright, from everyone's response, I'll make a sequel! I'm super excited! After the last chapter, I think I'll give you a little prologue (that will be the next chapter after the end) and then there will be a little wait because I want to start some other stories over the Summer that will come super soon! My goal is to have two up by the end of June, updating frequently, and then sometime (not regularly because I get super super busy) in July I'll post a couple chapters of the next one and then as school starts for me in August, I'll update more after all the camps are done.**

**Also: because ifyouknew is such an awesome person, I think everyone should read her fanfic! And her fanfic is really, really good! So please check it out!**

**Remember to Review!**

**-L**

**Chapter 26**

Clary had given up any notion that she could save Jace.

It was a lost cause, she knew that already.

But she would keep going.

Despite the inevitable failure about to occur, she _had to. _Now that she was really no use to Jace whatsoever in helping him, all she could do now was hope that she could find some time to tell Jace that she loved him. To ask for his forgiveness even if everything hadn't been her fault. To have his apology in return. To hear that he loved her. Yes, that as all that she was hoping for. And when they were convicted, she'd find little sadness in it; they would all die together, never to be parted.

So she continued on the edge of the forest, creeping silently through the bushes. She'd taken off her high heels a long way back, and from walking through the terrible shrubbery, her feet were very scratched up, bleeding and aching all over. She paused as the carriage stopped, Jonathon climbing out and extinguishing a witchlight. Her whole world turned dark, her eyes straining to see what was happening.

She heard him talking, slow feet shuffling. She crept closer into line of hearing.

"...I want everyone to go on ahead. Now, listen very closely. Listen to my every instruction. DON'T do ANYTHING but THIS. Do you all understand?...Good, now here it is, make sure you are all listening very, very closely to every single one of my words. Two people are in the house by the lake, but I do not want anyone to overtake them just yet. Only do it if a tall, blond-haired Shadowhunter comes in, do you understand? And when that happens, you can attack. But it will take several of you to take him down.

"So I want you all to go and surround the building and wait and do just as I told you. We are close to it, so be very, very quiet. I need to make sure The Midnight Flower is surprised and unprepared." The shuffling feet dispersed, leaving only the mundane, Jonathon, and a spare demon (Probably in command or something). "And now, mundane," he spat not looking the man in the eye and distancing himself from him as far as possible, "You must wait here and guard the horses and the carriage. And stay very quiet."

"G-G-Guard?" he shook, his voice trembling and quivering. "B-B-B-but it could be unsafe with all this going on about me. I can't assure you, sir that I'll stay quiet. I won't be able to hold back a yell or shriek if something particularly nasty comes around."

Clary shook her head. What a coward! "Fine then," he growled, "Gag him so he won't make a noise. He'll come with us since he's too pathetic to stay on his own." the old man was still trembling, the fear of staying on a road at night by himself truly was distressful to him.

The moon that had stayed in the shadows of the dark, heavy clouds emerged brightly. She could hear nothing but the footsteps of her enemies far in front of her, sounding distant with every minute. She ran to catch up, swearing when she brushed branches, making a tumult of noise. Jonathon turned around, staring at the spot where she stood. She froze but relaxed when he turned back around, quickening his pace around the bend. She controlled her breathing, adrenaline singing through her veins After a minute or so, she decided it was safe to move again, more cautious than the time before.

She reached the bend, turning, but froze. The shaded road was deserted, empty. She hadn't waited super long, had she? No, it had barely been two minutes. She timidly wandered to the middle of the road, glancing at the surrounding treeline when a cold hand clamped on her mouth. She bit at it, thrashing and screaming, trying to elbow him in the stomach, stomp on his toe, head butt him, something. But the man was resistant to any harm she tried to inflict on him, her screams and shouts muffled. He dragged her under the forest canopy, her vision growing impaired since it was so dark compared to the open road. She still struggled ferociously, but she couldn't do it forever. She would tire, and her restrainer was barely putting effort in _restraining her_.

The person somehow managed to get a gag around her, forcing her down on her knees. Panic was settling everywhere; her eyes flitted from person to person, though it was nearly impossible to tell who was who, her blood rushing and heart pounding faster than it had the whole night. She didn't want it to end like this. She had hoped that she could go down fighting, or at least resolutely and bravely, not like a screaming, terrified, little girl.

A hand passed over her face, calloused and rough, stroking over her lips and jaw lightly, making her cringe and freeze, her body paralyzed. "Ah, a woman. What are you-" he paused, skimming over her face again, patting her unruly hair fondly. "What a delight. A really...charming surprise." she could almost _hear_ him smirking. He brought her immobilized hand to his lips, kissing each finger mockingly. She shut her eyes, the image of Jonathon's white face shining, smiling horridly at her. "Clarissa Fairchild." he ripped the gag off of her, he and she both knew there was no reason for her to scream.

"Herondale." she forced out.

"What?" he sneered.

"I'm a Herondale." she stated plainly,

He narrowed his eyes. "Finally convinced you belong with your Husband?"

"No..." she said slowly, "I _am_ a Herondale. And everything and anything that comes with it." she said defiantly, raising her head to glare at him. He knew what she was saying; she was not the same girl from the Academy, and she most definitely was not his friend. She was Clary Herondale, a very, completely different person.

"Well, you can join your precious Jace very shortly, then." he snarled.

He tied the gag around her mouth, grinning like a skeleton. In a daze, he pulled her up, pushing her further up the road while the demon and old man followed.

**Yes short, I know, but some juicy stuff is going down in the next chapter and will be a bit more normal length. I'm giving you this now because I've promised myself not to work on anything during finals week, so don't expect anything (most likely, I might break it over the weekend since I have Monday off of school) till next wednesday. And also...TMI TUESDAY IS TOMORROW! I NEED TO SEE THAT TEASER SO SO SO SO BADLYYYYY! Is anyone else as excited as me? I'm like, dying out here!  
**

**Question: What chapters do you want to see in Jace's POV?**

**-L**


	27. Chapter 27

**I know that no excuse is going to help, so I'll just cut to the chase and ask for reviews on what you guys think of this chapter, story, etc. So please review, follow, favoritwe! you guys are super awesome for staying this long. Only two chapters left!**

**-La**

Clary numbly trudged along, the gag silencing her from any useless screams she might omit. She had been working on it for the past fifteen minutes or so, biting and tugging at it with her teeth, the cloth seemed to take the damage with ease, not letting up despite her grief.

The demon behind her prodded her back with its sharp claws, constantly poking her. Blood had sprouted from the place already, the wetness on her back only making her feel like throwing up even more.

Jonathon was practically strutting ahead, so pleased with himself- finally cornering and outsmarting the Midnight Flower, stopping the escape of an important Downworld leader, along with Clary's plans on warning Jace. It was near a perfect day for him.

They still had several hundred yards away from the lake, the moon overshadowed behind a huge, black cloud. Clary squinted, trying in vain to see the road before her in hopes of seeing a glimpse of Jace. The demon prodded her back again, pain lancing through her as he shoved her forward, the sensitive, raw area practically screaming again, more blood blooming onto her dress as the wound reopened. Clary stumbled, her foot twisting and rolling under her as she fell, sprawling onto the ground. The gag finally fell free of her face, hanging around her neck like a necklace.

She gasped, slowly getting into a sitting position and rubbed her ankle slowly, hoping that she could at least soothe or numb the aching spot.

"Get up!" Jonathon hissed, spinning around and storming to face her, well- tower over her. She craned her neck to see his pale face gleaming and illuminated despite the lack of light. "And shut up about it too! The Midnight Flower could be here any minute."

"Oh how horrible. That might actually ruin my day." she said dryly.

"Get up!" Jonathon hissed again, his face contorted in rage.

"I _can't_ get up!" she gritted her teeth, moving her already swollen ankle and pointing at it. "Give me a stele and I'll-"

"No." he stated. "Stand up and walk or I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" she snarled, throwing as much hate as she could into one glare. "I think it's obvious that you've already won! What _more_ could you take from me? What more do I have to give? You can't do anything to harm me anymore, _Jonathon_! You've taken everything away from me so what…_what_ could you _possibly_ do to me?!"

She was practically yelling at him, her voice growing louder with her passion and hatred. Jace would be caught inevitably tonight; who could possibly escape something like this? Her mother would be tried and burned along with him…and she'd be left with no one.

Clary could have the Lightwoods to console her-after all, their parents had been killed this year and Max was still held captive somewhere in Alicante-they would know what she was going through. But they wouldn't be there all the time. She didn't have any children, so there was no way to preserve at least a little of what Jace had looked like. What was the purpose of going through life if you had no one to share it with?

Jonathon reached out and slapped her cheek, his pale face now flushed with anger. "If you talk again like that," he began sinisterly, crouching to her eye level, coming quite close to her. A small, frightening smile was plastered upon his face which only grew as she shuddered. His long fingers cupped her face, stoking her cheek once or twice before continuing, his searching eyes roaming her face.

"There are a lot of things, Clary Fairchild," his breath ghosted over her face, smelling of vinegar, "that I could do to you. Things that could make you scream for hours upon end…Things that your mind couldn't even begin to imagine-and I'd do them all to you." he said breathily, his eyes darkening at the thought of some of the things they _both_ could imagine. He smirked now, his eyes roving over her ripped and bleeding body, overexposed from the countless whippings she'd had from the trees and bushes. " And you'll realize then, there are a lot of worse things than death. And by the end, you'll be begging for death."

Clary cringed, shrinking back into herself, the fire from her defiance snuffed out, just like her sudden deplete of energy and will. "If you so much as speak one word," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "then your mother will pay for it…in the most _gruesome_ way." he voice was filled with pleasure. "Do you understand? Any hint that you've somehow alerted Jace…then the demons will rush in and slay your mother _and_ the werewolf.

Clary swallowed and nodded, sure that she had never hated someone so much in her life. It was perfectly clear; saving her husband would mean condemning her mother, and saving her mother would mean condemning Jace. She struggled with the internal agony of choosing between two of her loves. It was like ripping her body in half. How could she give up her own mother-the one that had raised and fed and loved her since the very beginning of her life? Didn't she owe it to the woman who had given her life and brought her into this world?

But the other side screamed that Jace- her one and only true love- his life was also on the line. Giving up Jace meant death to part of her soul, leaving a cut out, fragile heart in replacement of the former. It would be a part of her that would be missing forever, nothing could ever fix the damage his death would create. And as she was making up her mind, the other half clawed back, reminding her of the three years of hurt and pain and loneliness. How could she choose someone who had caused so much distress and neglect over her own mother?

Jace's side shouted in retaliation that he had saved countless lives. If she condoned him, she'd be damning the rest of the Downworlders to a hideous fate as well.

Clary whole body shuddered, barely aware of Jonathon lifting her to her feet, or the pain that ensued afterward from her ankle. Her heart beat was increasing, along with the escalation of her breathing, taking in deep gasps of air. It didn't seem to make a difference-she was still panting breathily. She blinked away black spots that were clouding her vision. The hot and humid Summer air suddenly began to suffocate her, beads of sweat forming along her brow and neck. She rubbed the cool, salty perspiration from her forehead, her hands shaking from panic.

Everything turned a shade darker; the trees looming eerily around them, closing on them-no, closing in on her. Clary froze, barely noticing the sharp claw prodding her forward. The branches-they seemed to be stretching out their talons, grasping at her with their claws like the demon behind her. Clary opened her mouth to scream, but was immediately choked by the humidity.

The lonely sound of water lapping gently against the lake shore filled her ears, the sound drastically increasing to a full out storm, a hurricane raging inside her, tearing her apart piece by piece, guilt was a crushing weight on her-it was her fault all this had happened. If she hadn't been so stubborn and told Jace about the Blackthorns, things would have been different. _She knew it._ It was her fault _any_ of this had happened.

She could feel herself quaking where she stood, and became aware that Jonathon had turned around and come up to her. Clary's ankle stung with the growing pain. She saw his lips move, but she couldn't understand what he was saying. They formed her name, him suddenly gripping her arms with his cold hands. She cringed, stumbling away from him and falling again.

The sound of roaring waves droned out everything, her head feeling like a million pounds. She clutched it, shrinking into a fetal position. The dark spots finally filled her vision, blocking out the images of reaching trees and demons and Jonathon. Clary curled even more inward, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, and hearing nothing.

**Jonathon**

Clary's body finally gave in to itself, still shaking and trembling. The mundane scum nudged her body with his muddy boot, leaving a brown footprint. "Don't you touch her, slime!" he snarled as quietly as he could in the given circumstances. He wasn't sure where he had gotten 'slime' from, but it sounded right. "You have no right to touch her!"

"Sorry, Master Morgenstern." he said, inclining his head before raising it again to smile at the small form of the girl's body. Woman, he corrected. Clary had always been so small since the moment he had met her. "Just thought she was dead was all." he grinned again, thinking it some nasty joke.

"Of course she's not dead!" he spluttered.

He held up his hands in defense. "Just thought she-"

"Well you thought wrong, didn't you?" he said, averting his attention to the black demon waiting for orders. "Tie this…man up," he struggled to say as he glanced at the mundane's grime covered face, "and bring him with you. I don't need to worry about him while I take care of Clary. Hide him behind a rock or something-just make sure it isn't too far away from the hut. Then receive a short briefing from one of the others around the hut and come back and report back to me."

The thing nodded, grabbing the terrified man and slunk quickly and quietly to the hut. Demons traveled fast; it probably get there in less than five minutes, while for him it would've been around ten. Jonathon gazed down at Clary then, taking in her messy red hair, to her small, pale legs, to her bruised, bare arms. She was too fragile to be mixed into this. She had a small stature just like her will to withstand pressures. She couldn't handle anything too physical or she'd crumple in on herself like she had done just now. He felt a passing feeling of guilt for bringing her into this, but he quickly pushed it away.

He crouched down, smoothly scooping her up into his arms. She was too light, it was almost like carrying nothing. He wasn't ashamed to say that he was enjoying holding her, Clary not being able to protest against him touching her. Her breathing had finally begun to even out, soft movements showing her soft intakes. She was overall the most beautiful person he had ever seen, despite how ragged she looked just then. He had stopped denying it during the years in the Academy. So Jace showing up in her life wasn't very pleasant for him. He was glad now that he could pay back Jace for taking Clary's affections from him. He had always hoped to catch the Midnight Flower and make Jace pay, so the fact that he could combine the two was the greatest pleasure he had ever had.

Jonathon strolled down the path, the trees becoming less and less dense until the tree line disappeared. Now there was only tall grass and a spare few boulders scattered randomly throughout the field. He sprinted to the nearest rock, finding a ruffle in the grass, seeing something slithering and black. It met up with him behind the boulder, whispering in his ear. "Two other men are inside the hut now, none like the one you described. Both dark haired."

He nodded impatiently. "Go on."

"Nothing else to say, master." it rasped. "The rest are still around the hut, waiting for the blonde Shadowhunter to walk in. They have listened to your instructions-they will not move anywhere out of their place under any circumstance until he is inside."

"Good." he grinned, repositioning Clary in his arms. "Where did you hide the scum?"

"Just behind the hut to the left. He's tied up and hiding behind a boulder."

"Perfect." he said, standing up. "Is there a place to hide her?"

"Yes, I can take her sir, you can oversee that your orders are being fulfilled." Jonathon handed over Clary reluctantly, brushing a hand over her face before the demon crawled through the grass, disappearing immediately in the waving weeds.

**Clary**

Clary woke up, her hands tied behind her back, along with her feet. She panicked, almost yelling out for help, when she remembered to keep quiet or else her mother was dead. She clamped her mouth shut and instead struggled to get off her stomach. After rolling around in the wet soil for a good two minutes, Clary managed to sit up, her legs tucked beneath her.

Her whole body seemed to cry in one chorus. Her ankle was red and swollen, her limbs scratched up, and a terrible, pounding headache was surging just behind her forehead. And what was even worse-her nose itched.

Clary blinked away the darkness, her eyes adjusting. She was lying behind a large rock, and just over that was the front of the hut. She couldn't see anything but large, still shadows in the windows. Surrounding the small building was the band of demons, some peeking in through the dingy windows. She could see Jonathon crouching just to the right of her, behind the tree line and the little building. And only a couple yards away behind _him_ was the portal.

The brilliant blue light urged her to escape- to run away from this awful life and start anew. The taste of freedom that she wanted so, so badly. But as she glanced at the hut one more time, she knew she could not abandon her family. Whatever life she could start would forever be haunted by her old one. How could she even think it?

She could see Jonathon growing impatient, tapping his knuckles on a tree unconsciously, his whole body tensed like it was whenever he could sense a demon, but not see it. Clary peeked over her boulder as well, curiosity in its most gruesome and finest. Nothing. She could see nothing. Jace was nowhere in sight.

Clary was almost convinced that Jace had tricked them all, and his rescue really wasn't going to happen, when she heard his voice, ringing out in no exact place. It was terrible and off key-but perhaps one of the most beautiful and foreboding sound she'd ever heard.

Jace had finally arrived to the scene with flair, singing or chanting-she couldn't tell which because of how awful it was-the old Shadowhunter Children's Rhyme.

Clary shut her eyes, hoping that his voice would disappear. He couldn't get caught. He couldn't! But he sang another round of it and Clary knew that he wouldn't abandon anyone. And she had known already, that The Midnight Flower would only let himself be known to his enemies with style.

**Hate? Love? Oh, who am I kidding? You liked it right? It was interesting to see what Jonathon thinks about Clary, and a little of his character motivation. I am particularly very happy with this chapter, even though not a lot hapened in my opnion. Next chapter will be several the huge ending! And after that is the epilogue! More info will be given at the end of chapter 29 about the prologue and my tumblr page and other stuff.**

_**Question: What kind of things are you excited about for the sequel and what kind of things would you like to see?**_

**PLEASE REVIEW!  
**

**-La**


	28. Chapter 28

**You guys are kind of weird…A lot of you liked Jonathon? I mean, he's a pretty cool character, just not one that I would particularly like, you know? But eh, he's in the sequel, so that's another thing I guess a lot of you will like. Can someone tell me why you liked him so much?**

**So I kind of feel like tearing up because this is the last chapter before the epilogue….And it's crazy that this has been going on since March…It's taken so much time and effort writing this and I would like to thank every single one of you for reading TMF, it really means a lot to me. Just thought you should know.**

**-La**

**Chapter 28**

Clary couldn't shake the crushing weight on her chest, or the feeling of being choked, like her esophagus was being squeezed. She could see the demons over the large rock tensing for a fight, outstretching their claws, quiet growls emitting from a few of them. Across from her, Jonathon was doing the same; he had his sword out, the blade held up to his lips, waiting to say an angel's name. His legs were tense and ready, his other hand searching for a dagger at his belt.

Clary could finally tell where Jace was- his voice had stopped echoing once he got to the clearing and the edges of the lake. If she squinted hard enough, she could see a small shadow walking the shore. Clary cursed herself for not marking herself up with runes before this adventure. What she would've done for a Seeing Rune at that moment.

"'_Black for hunting through the night.'" _What was Jace doing? He was basically giving himself up! He couldn't fight off a dozen demons by himself! By the looks of it, he didn't have anyone with him, either._ "'For death and mourning the color's white.'"_ Clary had the urge to run at him, maybe they could go down fighting together._ "'Gold for a bride in her wedding gown'"_ The words reminded her of her wedding, the happiest, perhaps, day of her life. Jace in his black suit trimmed in gold, and her gold wedding dress…they had been in love, so in love, she hadn't picked up on all the dangers in Alicante. The dark shadow was too close to the hut, just a little to the left of it._ "'And red to call enchantment down.'" _he was still her Jace, and she couldn't forget and condemn him. So she let her other half win, gave in to what her heart had been telling her, urging her, to do.

She couldn't let him die! By the Angel! She couldn't! He was Jace. How could she even try to give him up? Let Jocelyn's blood be on her hands; she was a murderer and she could die for that crime. But she didn't care! At that moment, she forgot everyone but Jace. He _had _to live.

She ran from her spot, screaming like a mad person, to the hut, pounding on the door and shrieking, "Mother! Jocelyn, RUN! GO!"

"Someone stop her from screaming!" shouted Jonathon in rage. A demon grabbed her, its slimy hand gripping her arm and shoving her to the ground.

"Jace, get away! Oh, run. Both of you!" The voice stopped immediately when Clary screamed, which she wasn't fully aware of. She was half moaning and half sobbing on the ground. "Get, away, Jace..." Clary mumbled, hugging herself and curling in, not caring anymore. Jocelyn would die, she would die, it was all the same to her. The reassuring thought came into her mind again for a fleeting moment-that they'd both die didn't have to be parted from each other that long. Maybe she would forgive her, she would understand.

But the thought was immediately swept away when the actual death was almost occurring. "GO IN THERE…." Jonathon shouted, purpling with rage and towering over her. "Go in there," he growled, suddenly very quiet, "and kill every single person in that ...grab the woman and bring her out here…so she can see…that her own daughter caused her death. And so that her daughter," he spat, glancing at her once, a sob raking through her chest, "can watch her die."

**Jonathon**

The demons rushed in, kicking the door aside. A loud clatter erupted in the room, things being shoved aside and furniture tossed and torn. But no human cries yet. Jonathon, who was waiting for those screams of pain and fear, felt impatient. "What is the problem-" he walked into the hut, the door still ajar. The room was ruined, the demons actually a little unsure what to do with themselves. "Where…" he swallowed thickly, feeling his temper building. "Where are the four men?" he asked evenly, feeling nothing close to even.

One figure stepped forward. "There's no one here anymore, sir."

"I can see that perfectly clear!" he snapped. A brooding silence curtained the room until Jonathon stormed out of the building, where Clary lay, sobbing and petrified in the same place. The rest of the demons followed him out, circling around him and Clary.

Staring at her with cold eyes, he asked his second in command, "How did they escape?"

It swallowed. "Sir, your orders were to not move from our positions until a tall, blonde Shadowhunter came into the hut. No one came."

"But I ordered you just now to rush in when the woman screamed." he ground his teeth. Clary sat up a little more, hands propping her up, tears streaking her small face, an expression no doubt of disbelief and hope.

"I believe, sir." it shook, "The men have been gone for a while."

He was momentarily choked with anger and fury. "You believe…You-Muriel!" he screamed, lifting his glowing seraph blade and plunging it into the head of the demon, feeling the delight of the kill even when black blood sprayed all over his hands and gear.

Clary stared at him in horror, black flecks now mixing with her shining tears. "You have all failed me!" he shouted, turning his back on the woman. "You will all suffer worse than just returning back to your realm." the demon slumped to the ground, the blade still embedded in its head and clattered when it disintegrated. "If you run and find them now, I think-" he was interrupted by a flash of blue. He whipped around to see tree more dark figures running into it, off to who knew where.

Jonathon swore loudly, the circle backing away from him, probably fearing who his next victim would be. "They are gone, Master. There is nothing else we can do." said a timid, raspy one, a little scrawny compared the other tall, looming figures of its kind.

"I can see that!" he snarled. "I'm not stupid like the rest of you are." his hand clenched to find a knife at his belt and flung it at it, not aiming to see if it had hit its mark; from the gurgled scream, he guessed it did.

The Midnight Flower had stopped his chanting, and was gone. He couldn't have gotten far, though. He was the real prize, the others just a diversion. And with the help of a few of his pack, he believed he could do it. "The Midnight Flower is still on the loose! And we can still catch him. He can't have gotten far. Did he leave anything in the hut for the men?"

"We didn't check sir." one said.

He nodded for it to search the destroyed room, and only a few minutes later, it came back with a note. "I found this on the floor sir, by the fireplace."

Jonathon smoothed out the little scrap of paper, reading aloud, "I cannot come and get you without risking your safety, so follow each instruction with precision. Two minutes after you receive this, leave the hut and turn left immediately and keep walking inside the forest edge. When you hit the second boulder, stop and back up. Jonathon will be waiting there, so stay as far away from him. Wait for the signal and go to my house and stay there. Do not wait for me, do not stop until Garroway is safe. I'll be returning home shortly and then move you to your next position. M."

Jonathon crumpled it in his fist, even if his eye had caught onto one phrase. "I'll be returning home shortly." the note said. Jace was heading to his manor right then. He still had a chance to redeem himself!

"If we make it to Herondale Manor in time, I will spare your lives." he told them. He sheathed his blade, about to allow one of the demons to pick him up, when one of them stopped him.

"Master, what do we do about the woman and the mundane?" it spat. "You can't let it live, he's an eye witness."

Jonathon strutted over to where the mundane hid, behind the rock. The circle broke and followed him around the hut. The mundane was a ragged heap, his legs still tied together, but the rope around his shoulders and arms had given way, a tangle around his body. He lay there pathetically, trembling and quaking like the coward he was, muttering to himself, trying to untighten the binding around his hands. He seemed like he had gone mad, for he barely noticed when they came up. His eyes were alit strangely and a little frightening and only flinched when Jonathon grabbed his shoulder. With his strength, he shoved the shivering creature closer, only about twenty yards away from Clary's shuddering form.

"I assume, mundane, that being a servant, you remember things well?" he smirked. This was worth the time it was going to take up.

"Y-Yes sir." he stuttered from where he was still flopped on the ground.

"Then you'll remember our agreement before we left?" only when the man started to moan miserably did he continue. "We agreed that if your information and master's carriage would help aid me in the capture of The Midnight Flower, I would reward you handsomely…But…" he dew out.

"Oh, please sir! Have mercy! I didn't-" he cried, struggling to kneel before the Shadowhunter.

"I said that if your information was not valid, there would be…consequences." he sneered, grinning devilishly.

"Please! I didn't lie! I never meant-" he clutched at Jonathon's wrist, which he jerked away, disgusted.

Jonathon stepped back to the demons, ordering them, "I think I can rely on giving this…coward a good, sound beating. Just don't kill him. I want him to…protect the lady while we're gone."

The demons closed in eagerly, claws outstretched. The man's shrieks and screams was like a healing rune to Jonathon's heart.

**Clary**

Clary plugged her ears to shut out the horrifyingly awful screams of the man only a few yards away from her. It sent little daggers of pity through her as the screams reached an almost unearthly pitch, the voice gone raw. Even though Clary hated the man for his betrayal to her husband, she couldn't stomach the sound of his torture.

Jonathon said something and the demons stopped their punishment. The pack began walking over to her. She struggled to sit up, a little terrified for what he had in store for her. "As for the lady…" he said smoothly. "I'm afraid I must leave her here until I can send someone to fetch her. Don't worry, fair Clary, you have the mundane over there to protect you." he sneered, smiling mockingly at her. "I hope we can see each other again, soon. No? Well, send my regards to Jace the next time you see him again." he smiled viciously, smirking at his own cleverness. He kissed her hand once, bowing mockingly to her before one of the demons picked him up and they ran over the Brocelind Plain and past the Forest and Alicante to her home.

**Time Lapse**

She had no idea how long she lay there, it was impossible to tell the time. She felt as if she was in a dream, a very horrifying dream, but a dream nevertheless. The little waves from the lake was oddly soothing , and she felt a little drowsy. She didn't want to think, or feel anything ever again.

And at that point all she could do was think. And wonder. Wonder at the predicament she had gotten her family into, and how she had screwed up every person's lives around her. She had no idea what was going to happen-the feeling of utter uselessness was heavy on her like a blanket. And no else had any idea what was going to happen! Jonathon had gotten the best of the them.

Only she heard the most startling thing she would admit she'd ever heard in her whole life. So strange, in fact, that it caused her heart to flutter rapidly in fear.

"Damn!" was all she heard, the voice clear as day, and loud.

Clary didn't trust herself; raising herself into a sitting position, she cast her gaze round the field to see its source.

It was silent and still for a space of a few minutes, and Clary was almost convinced that she was dreaming, that this was all a figment of her imagination and that she was making it up, when it came again. "Never felt so weak in my life!"

She was dreaming. She was sure of it, only it repeated again not shortly after, "Damn Demons. Could've hit worse I suppose."

That voice could only be said by one person, in the only way he could say them. In silky, drawling tones, only a bit of strain mixed in.

Clary bolted to her feet. Was her mind tricking herself? She couldn't possibly be making any of it up? She looked around the field again, trying to locate the voice. If only she could find the owner.

"Jace! Jace!" she cried, spinning in a fast circle, the empty landscape torturing her and the voice bringing her paradise. "Where are you? Come to me! Let me…Jace! Jace!..."

"You can call me all you want, dear, but it won't get you anything." said the same, perfect voice.

Despite herself, she laughed-it came out more like she was being choked from the lump forming in her throat and the burning tears behind her eyes.

"I can't come to you, actually, I physically can't come to you. Otherwise nothing would stop me from doing so."

She half sobbed half laughed, still circling around trying to see him. There was no one in sight, except by the rock, of course…where the mundane…By the Angel! He was…He was the mundane!

The moonlight cast him in a sickly light, not looking like her Jace at all. She limped to him, tripping over her own feet in excitement, "Jace! Oh, Jace! How…How are you even here? You left the note on the floor-" she bombarded him, half strangling him in a bear hug. He winced and groaned, his hands still tied together making it quite uncomfortable.

"Hush, love, and let me explain in due time." he said reassuringly, reaching for her in vain.

"Jace! By the Angel, what happened! I thought we were all as good as dead!"

"You doubted me?" he said, pretending shock.

"Well, I wasn't fully aware that you were capable of…this." she gestured at his costume, his grime and dirt covered face and laughed, tears finally freeing themselves from her eyes.

"If you could…" he lifted his hands in between them, positioned like he was praying.

She nodded, trying to work at them with her hands, and when that seemed useless, her teeth. She cradled his hands in hers while she did so, some of her tears spilling onto his palm. The ropes finally gave way and he collapsed onto the ground. There was a huge, long cut that went from his cheekbone to his jaw, his nose probably broken, and a visible gash that was bleeding from his chest.

She shook him, "Jace…Jace…Do you have water or…or something?" she asked desperately. He looked like he would pass out any second, and she was sure that at any moment her tears of joy would switch to fear.

"No, love, I have some wine in a pocket in this old thing somewhere..."

She felt embarrassed to search his chest for the bottle, blushing like a little girl that she thought she had grown out of when she had to grope around for it. He smirked halfheartedly when she checked his pant pocket. "Or you could keep doing that, it might revive me better than alcohol."

She reddened and pulled her hand out of his pocket and made sure to hit a very bruised part of his ribs.

"Okay, ow ow ow, that-" he grimaced and stopped talking from shortness of breath, groaning quietly and clutching his abdomen, curling into himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Is Jace Herondale succumbing to his pain?"

He gave her a hard look, "Maybe. I'm human, so it is normal for me to react to pain sometimes."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He nodded and bit his lip, recoiling again.

"I don't think you are." she shot him a worried look and searched more thoroughly for the flask. Finding it in a pocket in his coat, she handed it to him, propping his head up so he could drink better. She lifted up his shirt, checking the long gash along his chest and poking at his ribs. He sucked in a breath sharply, cringing. His eyes looked a little watery...Was he about to start crying? He never cried. How much pain was he in?

He swallowed a couple of gulps of the liquor, taking a few deep breaths again. "Help me up, would you?"

He tried lifting himself up when she pressed gently on his abdomen and shoulder. "No, you need to stay down and rest for a few moments, alright?"

He sighed. "I don't like the idea of having you tower over me. It's a little bizarre." he smiled, but lifted both her hands from him, getting into a sitting position despite her complaints. "I really am fine, Clary. I just have a few bruised ribs…and a lot of other very bruised areas." He grimaced again, drinking more of the wine. He sighed, his eyes lit a bit more brightly. "Time to get rid of this awful thing." he threw the wig and ruffled his hair from where it was matted. "And I haven't shaved in days…Ugh, how you can stand to look at me is beyond me." he said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

"Always concerned about looks." she smiled, looking him over with a gentle gaze. She wondered how she hadn't seen it was him. Maybe she had been too focused, or it was her blind hatred for the man that kept her from looking too closely at him.

"Now...I guess you want to talk, love?"

Love. He had never called her that, taking to "darling" and "Mrs. Herondale" when he was still angry at her. She decided she liked it. "I guess it is…Jace…"

"Yes?" he looked long and searchingly into her eyes.

"If you knew…"

"I knew everything, love. Everything." she shivered, but his voice was soft and understanding.

"The whole time-"

"The whole time." he nodded.

"Then how can you forgive me?" she blurted in wonder, finally getting the question off her chest.

"Forgiveness?" he looked aghast. "Why would I need to forgive you? It was my fault…" he broke off, looking towards the lake and the glimmering waves lapping the shore. "No, Clary. It was my fault for not trusting you. I should've…I should've been a better partner, a better _husband _to you…and trusted you…I was just..." he sighed. "I blamed you for making me feel heartbroken-"

"As you should." she took his hands in hers. "I should've told you right away; confessed it. But I…I had too much pride. I didn't want to admit I did something wrong."

"No…don't" he struggled for words, which was something Clary hardly ever saw him do. "I…I would've done the same thing. I wouldn't have told, either."

"But Jace-"

"And I was too...dumb to realize…" he finally looked at her, intertwining his fingers with hers. "Their deaths were never your fault."

"Wh…what? Of course they are!"

"No." he shook his head. "They weren't. You didn't knowingly turn them in. You would never have done that willingly. I realize that now. I don't actually know what had me believing you were a cold blooded murderer…"

"I deserved most of it Jace."

He shook his head. "You didn't. Don't say that kind of thing."

"But I did! You don't understand; I betrayed _you_. I helped Jonathon try to catch _you_. I didn't even try to fight back."

He grabbed her chin, gently tugging it to face him. "You didn't know it was me. And you only did it so you could protect your mother. Why do I need to forgive someone who has only acted as a hero would?"

She inhaled sharply, staring at him. Would her actions be deemed as heroic? She'd been trying to keep her mother safe the whole time, even if it was through treachery...She remembered more pressing questions than her heroism. "How did this happen? I've been trying to think through it in my head, but I still don't see how you did it."

"Moment of truth, then." He smiled, took another sip from the wine bottle, and settled himself in a more comfortable position. "I first began in Alicante of course, as you know. The others already had a plan to get Luke out of there, and I was overseeing the jailbreak part of the rescue. I could describe everything in full detail, but that would take a very, very long time.

"When I left the party, I already knew that Jonathon knew about the rescue, well...most of it. I knew that he had discovered the identity of The Midnight Flower, and would try to shove the whole ideal in my face. So I was ready at the hotel to escape...all with the help of Simon, of course."

"Simon?"

"Yes," he smiled, "Simon. He said that you were there waiting for me there and that there was a lot of demons and Jonathon inside. He helped me with an escape plan, and so I had the vinegar and bleach mix ready from the old Lightwood Manor. He stayed outside, behind the ring of demons and helped me kill a few. Then we both ran to the manor again. He helped again with the disguise. He left in the carriage and pretended to be me, while I stayed back and acted. He hid in the compartment, and I have yet to hear of the rest of his ventures.

"I knew that our plan would work, but I wanted to keep an eye on him, just in case he did anything too twisted. I figured that the best role to play was to be someone that he despised and deemed almost worse than Downworlders. And if you noticed, he could never look me in the eye or face. So that helped keep my identity unknown to him. He was totally unassuming of me the whole time.

"So I knew that the demons were too stupid and fearful to understand Jonathon's orders. So when he had the demon tie me up and hide me, I immediately cut the ropes. He never assumed that a mundane would be armed. So I was able to send two notes. (I always keep a pen and paper with me at all times). The first one was the one you all found on the floor, and the second was the one with the actual instructions." he chuckled. "I cant believe that he thought my men were dumb enough to leave a note on the floor.

"Anyways, the second one basically said to use the portal and go to the New York Institute, where I would be shortly after. And then I instructed them to leave the first note on the floor to be found. As I assumed, the demons watched them leave before Jonathon even arrived. The sign to leave for them was the rhyme, though none of us actually thought you would say anything or do anything, so when you began screaming for us to leave, I ran back to my hiding place as a mundane and tied as well as I could do by myself. I didn't have time for my shoulders when they got there, but Jonathon obviously didn't care that much.

Clary stared at him in wonder, trying to figure out how he had come up with such a brilliant plan in so short of time. "How?..."

He smirked a little, "I'm a little bit of a strategic genius."

She gave him a look, and he just grinned, before looking down.

"The last thing I thought he would though was to punish me for his own failure." he grimaced. "That wasn't in the plan." He paused, looking her over. "And neither was the suffering of your little body."

She looked down at herself too. She looked awful; her arms and legs were scratched to oblivion, her feet a bloody mess from thorns and blisters. All the way the her ankle was muddy, a dark coat hopefully not affecting her open cuts all over her body.

"I wish I could..." he breathed, looking her up and down again. They were both hurt and trembling from exhaustion. But she didn't care, and she hoped that he didn't either. He was focusing on her legs, his brows furrowed and that adorable line appeared like it did whenever he was worried.

She smiled. "It's nothing compared to what's happened to you, Jace. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine."

He nodded, grabbing her leg and bring it closer to him so he could examine it pr something. Clary gasped and fell backwards, catching herself with her elbows. She was pretty sure she was flashing him, but it didn't really matter, did it? After all, they were married.

"Jace...you cant do anything about it. Neither of us has a stele, so what else can you do?" She said impatiently. "Kiss it better?"

"If you prefer..." he then put his lips on her leg, his touch so sudden and unexpected and soft that she jumped. Clary felt him smirk against her skin, continuing his path upwards. Each kiss covered an aching part of her body, distracting her from her pain and focusing more on what Jace was doing. As he moved further up her leg, reaching her knee, his kisses changed from light and pecking to long and hot, occasionally flicking his tongue against her skin. She always jumped, making him smile and move a little further up her leg to her thigh.

With each kiss, he moved up further, from the curve of her hip to her stomach, peppering small kisses along her chest that made her eyes roll back. He reached her collarbone, pausing there and climbing onto her, fitting himself over her perfectly. He breathed on the same spot, just above her collarbone, letting his breath ghost over her hotly. She grabbed onto his shoulders to keep herself steady, fully aware that Jonathon could send back anyone and catch them, but she didn't care anymore. Why should she deny herself the pleasure Jace was making her feel.

He continued his path up her throat, kissing the pounding pulse that fluttered even worse than before. "By the Angel, Jace..." she gasped, fisting his shirt in her hands, his curling hair waving gently from her breath. He kept going up, placing one soft kiss at the sensitive spot just behind her ear, traveling to her jaw. She leaned her head back, closing her eyes and relishing in the feeling of his touch again.

He stopped at the corner of her mouth, grabbing her thigh and pulling her closer to him, until he finally touched his mouth with hers.

Softly and gentle, it was completely different from what Clary had been expecting. But it was better than the one from a few weeks ago. It was sweet and perfect, both of them having a chance to enjoy each other, lips against lips. It was consoling, the physical part of their being together again. It was trusting, them telling that they loved and believed in each other, that any problem would be fixed together.

She slowly smoothed from his shoulders to the back of his neck, intertwining her fingers through his hair. Jace brought his hand to cup her face, softly cupping her cheek and jaw. She gripped his hairline harder, pulling him closer and harder against her, his muscles tightening. Their innocent kiss sped up, both of them panting into each others open mouth, his tongue pushing against hers.

His hand traced from her jaw, down her neck, past over her chest, and curved the indentation of her waist. He fingered her hipbone, aligning their hips more, making her hands jerk.

They were interrupted by the sound of the brushing of tall grass, footsteps coming closer to them. Clary tensed and rolled out from under him, grabbing the handle of a seraph blade at Jace's belt, but he just grasped her hand and pulled it off of it. "It's just Simon. Calm down."

And sure enough, there was Simon, extra pale in the moonlight. " There you two are! I couldn't find either of you for the longest time. Sorry for taking so long." He grinned good-naturedly. "Geez, you two look like you just walked through Hell and back."

"Thanks, Simon, for making me feel so much more self confident in my appearance." he got up, wincing a little as he did so and dusted off his hands.

"Please," Simon snorted, "If you were any more confident, then your big head would explode."

"Touché." he grinned, pulling Clary up only to have her collapse again.

"Ow!...Ugh, my feet…they're…ow, gosh, I think I sprained one earlier." she inspected her blistered foot, eyeing the dried blood.

"I'll carry her." Simon offered, shrugging.

"No." Jace said almost instantly. "I can do it."

She gave him a worried look. "Are you sure about that Jace? Because you-"

"I'm fine." and as if to prove his point, he scooped her up in his arms, tucking her against his chest, he glanced down at her "After all this time, you still doubt me?"

She smiled despite herself. "Never."

He kissed her forehead, starting towards the portal. "Ready to go home?"

"More than ready." she nodded. And she really was. She missed her home, and as much as it was fun to stay at Jace's old place, it had always felt too empty. Closing her eyes, she thought of the Institute doors, imagining the only place that she wanted to be was with Jace.

He jumped through the portal, the odd sensation coming whenever one traveled that way. When she did open her eyes again, it was considerably lighter outside. Simon was already down the street, probably trying to find a hiding place before he portaled back to Idris at night.

Jace opened the doors of the Institute, pressing the button of the elevator to go upstairs.

It was silent in the elevator. Not an awkward silence, but more one full of contentedness. And never would Clary have imagined that they'd be like this again three months ago. But now…

They were content.

Not needing anything or wanting anything from each other.

It was all she could ask for.

And so when Jace plopped her onto the mattress in _their_ room, drew a rune on her shoulder, and covered her with the comforter, she _finally_ fell asleep peacefully for the first time in three years, in Jace's arms.

***wipes away tear* there it is guys. The end. I just want to thank everyone for reading this. It has been such an amazing experience to increase my talents in writing and this has all really helped me so much.** **For more info on the Sequel and spoilery stuff, I have my tumblr page link on my profile and I still have yet to update anything, but that's only because I have nothing TO post. **

**So yeah…I guess this it until we meet again…There's really nothing to say…**

**I guess we're content as well…**

***sob***

**-La**


	29. Chapter 29

***sigh* here it is guys. This has been such an amazing experience and I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, favorited (I'm still not sure that's a real word), and followed! Every one of you are completely amazing I send my love virtually to you . 3**

**Also, thanks to my fantastic, beautiful, amazing, talented, and super crazy perfect beta reader, Life Indeed!**

**-Lau**

**Epilogue**

**Jonathon**

* * *

He was so close. Too close. The Herondale Manor was lit dully from the soon-to-rise sun**. **He could feel the demons quicken their pace to avoid getting fried. The one carrying him dropped him, the rest melting into the shadows, their job fulfilled and their reward to be given the followingnight.

He ran down the cobblestone path, most of the flowers drenched in dew. All the midnight flowers were closed, the petals hiding from the coming dawn. He had never liked the flower much anyways, so when the mysterious Midnight Flower arose, it seemed fitting that he hated both things. Then he found out about Jace being the rebel…well, he was altogether surprised, but altogether not. It was so like Jace to do that kind of thing: come in and ruin everything without any thought of the consequences.

He smirked, thinking of how relevant the flower was to the was hiding away in his house like the coward he was; he left everything on his wife's shoulders. Jace had never deserved her, never cared for her as much as Jonathon had. And tonight…tonight had to happen, despite whatever Clary thought of him afterwards. Jace needed to pay for his evils and treachery. And if Clary hated him, revenge for love had already won out against love itself.

He stormed to the door, kicking it down off its oiled hinges, sending several woman from inside screaming and clutching at each other. He ignored them, starting towards Clary's staircase, when he was stopped by a strong, powerful and commanding voice. "Sir! Sir, I believe you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes." Jonathon spun around to face a tall and broad shouldered man, towering over him. "Where is the Master of this house? He needs to be arrested for crimes against his country and leader."

"Well, as you can see, he's not here." The man folded his arms over his chest menacingly.

"No…no that can't be right! He was to arrive here with a woman and several other men. Where is he!" he shouted.

"I don't know what information you have, but it's false, that much I can tell you. Master Jonathon left instructions to clean up and cover the manor after he and his wife left. Though I think that it will be a bit hard to lock up if we don't have a door," the burly man added, holding back smile and glancing behind his shoulder.

"You mean he hasn't been here since-"

"The party a few days ago. He and his wife left, so we have followed the directions as asked."

"You're lying." Jonathon ground his teeth.

"Unless you have the mortal sword with you, and I see that you don't…I guess you'll just have to trust me." He smiled coldly.

Jonathon refused to believe the annoying servant. "This can't be happening! I found a letter of his saying that he would be here!" he nearly shouted at the man, pulling out the crumpled letter out of his pocket and showed the man.

The servant read it, smiling near the end before clearing his face again. He returned it to Jonathon, explaining, "If my master sent this, he wouldn't have left it on the ground. He's much smarter than that."

Jonathon reread the lines over twice, before crumpling it in his fist. He had been tricked. . Well, it would never happen again. Never. He would never let The Midnight Flower get the better of him again…not ever. "This," he vowed, "this will be the last time he tricks me."

Jace winning was a onetime thing and no matter what crimes Jonathon committed, or how ruthless he'd become, he'd keep his vow…and kill Jace.

* * *

**Isabelle**

1\. Hannah

2\. Sarah

3\. Rachel

4\. Rebekah

The only four names she could pick out of the bible that she actually liked. She had narrowed the list down easily, crossing off names like Bathsheba, Jezebel, and Deborah. Those were all too hideous.

But if it was a boy, it would have a Shadowhunter name. That was their deal.

Will? no…too common.

Matthew?...Still common, but maybe…

Jonathon?...Ha! What was she thinking! _Definitely_ not.

Simon?...No, she didn't need two Simons running around; the world would probably explode from , it wasn't a Shadowhunter name.

Alexander?...More consideration on that.

Robert?...No. What was she thinking?! Even if he had been murdered, along with Maryse, she still felt too conflicted with anger and bitterness, and then guiltiness for thinking that way since he was dead…The name held too many mixed feelings to give her child.

Max…Now there was one…She swallowed a thick lump that had begun to form. She hadn't seen him in…By the Angel, for almost four years. He would just barely be 15. Who knew what had happened to him, what the government had done to him…She hated thinking about her brother, with all the uncertainty. Jace's last intel told him that he was being kept somewhere in the Gard, heavily protected and…By the Angel…he probably wasn't even the same, innocent, sweet person he once was…

Max…Definite consideration.

The building suddenly shook beneath her. Isabelle sighed in relief; sundown was only a few minutes ago and she had been anxiously anticipating his return. It was almost four days ago since the time when he left with Clary to Alicante.

Isabelle jumped out of her seat and raced down the stairs, holding her arms out and nearly plowed him over as she squeezed him in a tight death grip. As they embraced, she felt an escalation of that unique happiness, when everything was all right and everyone she cared about was safe.

Simon patted her head reassuringly and stepped away from her. He still held her wrists between them tightly. "It's like you thought I was dead or something"

"Well, considering you already are…"

"Beside the point," he interjected and grinned, glancing down at her belly. It was still mostly flat, but still bigger than it was two months ago. "Are you alright?"

She snorted. "After all you've been through, and you're asking me if I'm alright!"

He held his hands up in defense. "Just making sure you weren't jumping off cliffs or sky diving. I heard that's really bad if you're pregnant."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I was too worried about you to do anything remotely dangerous. I felt almost sick…and you haven't told me anything about what happened."

Simon licked his lips and sat down, holding her hand over the old table. "So Clary and I started off to Alicante. We got in the city just fine with the compartment and slides over the window. We got to the place where Jace was supposedly staying and I stayed in the carriage. I told her it was mostly to keep out of sight but I sort of lied to her in that sense. I had to get to Jace and tell him about Jonathon. He had arrived at the inn Clary was staying in, along with a lot of demons.

"I left a note in for Clary in the stables and then left in the carriage. I knew Jace was staying at the old Lightwood Manor-I offered it to him originally-and told him what was happening. He came up with a quick plan, and I helped him make a disguise for later on in the night. I went with him back to the inn and waited outside the ring of demons. He jumped out the window and we slaughtered a few of them together before running away back to the house.

"There I helped him dress in this old getup- he looked just like a sickly old mundane, in my opinion-and he played his part perfectly, I'm assuming. I left in the carriage and didn't tell the driver the plan; I needed him to be surprised to be successful. I hid in the compartment when we neared the gates. The guards were very surprised to see an empty carriage and checked it for the longest time. The driver was perfect, he had no idea what had happened to me.

"It was perhaps the worst ten minutes of my life; if I had a heart, I'd have probably died from a heart attack. I swear, I thought that they had me several times. But they let it go on and I was able to get out of the hiding spot and tell our driver what had happened. He rode me to the destination and I told him to hide deep in the woods with the carriage. I stayed by the edge, just by the plains and in view of the going-ons of Jace and Clary.

"In short, we succeeded in getting everyone to safety and I left with Jace and Clary in the portal. I stayed with Alec and Magnus most of yesterday and I left in a portal that Magnus was able to produce that night. He made sure to keep it a little outside the border of Idris so I was able to sneak past a few of the patrol guards and come home." Simon grinned. "To you."

"Sounds like a big journey." She said, very impressed.

"One of the most important, I'd say. Everything that The Midnight Flower's been doing is leading up to it. He got the Werewolf leader, Luke. Werewolves will come flocking in to support him and rally behind him. Camille Belcourt…A very powerful vampire and a very important informant; he needs her information, even if she can't be trusted. It's become an ever present issue right now in the meetings…things are turning to war."

Isabelle squeezed his hand. "And we'll be ready to fight."

* * *

**Seven months later**

**Clary**

Izzy seemed to glow while she watched the Simon hold the baby girl. Hannah Sophie Lewis. Already, black hair was raising to a sort of natural mohawk, with blue eyes darkening to a deep brown. So all in all, a very close replica of Isabelle.

Jace stood just behind Clary, arm wrapped around her waist, a smile upon his face. "That'll be us soon, eh?" He poked her belly.

She swatted his hand away playfully. "Not yet…don't tell them for now." She smirked. "At least let Simon and Isabelle have a few days of attention before we steal it away forever."

Jace sighed dramatically. "You're right, of course. Once they hear the news, poor Hannah will be all but forgotten…Especially once they've met little Owen."

"We don't know if it's a girl or a boy yet," Clary scolded, glancing behind her shoulder at him. "It could be a girl…"

"No..I'm pretty sure It's a boy. I'm always right, you see. Out of all people, you should know that."

"Yes, because you have some mystical power to see right through the womb."

"X-ray vision, baby."She pushed him playfully and went to speak to the couple. Alec and Magnus had just left; she assumed that it had to do with league business. There was never a day off or a break, even special days like this.

It was a little surprising to her still how Jace had reacted to her news. Stony-faced from shock, she was a little worried when he didn't appear as excited as she was. But then that night he had apologized and explained how scared he was to raise a child. He preceded to tell her about he and his father's relationship; being neglected by him when his mother went half insane and then died. His father never really seemed to care about him that much. Jace feared that he wouldn't ever be a nurturing father because of his childhood; how could he love a child if he'd never been loved himself?

Now he was better, going through certain stages of happiness and excitement every week. Sometimes it was a little exhausting; just last week he had been jumpy and worried, while the week before he was jumpy and ecstatic, practically skipping and shouting whenever he was happy.

This week he was still jumpy, but also reassured. He had finally accepted that just because his father hadn't been very good at taking care of him, it didn't mean that he didn't know what love was. And he had the ability to show it to others.

"She's so beautiful." Clary stroked the little, ten-day-old baby's hair.

Isabelle grinned. "Isn't she perfect?" She let the baby hold her finger, waving it around, her big eyes on her mother's delighted face. "She doesn't seem real sometimes."

"She's plenty real." Simon grumbled from behind. "I wake up every night from her screams."

"And then I have to nurse her," Izzy retorted. "You get to go back to sleep. I have to make sure she's burped and is full so she won't wake up again. Simon gets the baby and I have to take care of her," she explained to Clary, taking the baby from Simon when Hannah began to cry. Clary nodded. She had no idea how to take care of a little baby; she'd had no siblings since her father was some unknown mundane that her mother never said anything about.

The Institute was buzzing from other guests, the Sanctuary decorated more than it had been in decades. Clary drifted among the guests, most of them Downworlders, some talking about Hannah, while most complaining about Idris and dead family and clan members…the numbers were quite reassuring to her, and she was sure to Jace as well. They needed more than just two dozen men to take on Alicante. She greeted her mom a few minutes after she arrived, now finally married to Luke after almost 6 years of waiting. "Hello, mother." Clary beamed, giving her a hug. "Are you having fun so far?"

Jocelyn nodded. "But not as much as I would be if it was yours!" she teased.

It was just a silly smile, but Clary felt a nervous churning sensation in her abdomen. She forced a laugh. "Yes, maybe someday."

Clary departed from the two of them, drifting from aimlessly once again, until someone caught her eye. He was young, probably late teens or early twenties. Even though he was standing next to Jace, was glaring across the room at her, his blue-green eyes shadowed by light brown hair, bore into hers. Clary felt like she had seen him before, somewhere.

She felt unnerved; had she done something offensive to him? Surely not. She was sure this was the first time she'd laid her eyes on him.

The crowd dispersed around Jace so Clary went up to him. "Do you know who that young man is?" she gave a pointed look to the [person in question] him. "He was glaring at me earlier. Do you know what his problem is?"

Jace shifted from foot to foot awkwardly.

"Oh...um. Well, Clary…he blames you for his family's death," he finished, sighing.

"Oh…But that doesn't make any-" she stopped short, realization dawning on her. "Oh…I see…But he's…they're-" she quit speaking, trying to control her racing thoughts. "He's a Blackthorn, isn't he? But I how did he survive?! I thought he was dead! I heard-"

Jace hushed her. "They lied. Julian was one of our first rescues, and the government wasn't too happy and didn't want the public to know. So they replaced him with a random mundane from France. They burnt the rest of the Blackthorns, though."

A ghost returned to her then; that shadow of guilt that had been hanging over her for the past three years. Coming back to haunt her yet again. From her stony expression, Jace put an arm around her. "Hey, don't be so sad! Our best friends have a kid and we will too! What's there to be sad about?" he smiled sweetly down at her.

His smile was probably one of the most surprising things to recur in her life. Not his actual smile, but the fact that he smiled at her. She never knew how much she missed the small acts of kindness until now. Right then, he'd been trying to cheer her up, make her happy. A year ago, he would've pushed any sign of emotion and ignored her. But it was luckily different now.

"And speaking of…" Jace grinned devilishly at her, walking to the front of the Sanctuary. "Everyone!" he called. "My wife and I have an important announcement…"

She hid her face in her hands.

Obviously the time to wait wasn't very long.

* * *

**Valentine**

He walked purposefully down the slippery stone steps. Bows of greeting followed him whenever he passed guards. The stench of waste, filth, and Downworlders filled his nose so strongly that at times he attempted not to gag. Valentine turned the corner, passing more occupied cells. Whenever he passed, werewolves growled, vampires hissed, and Warlocks muttered at him. Every time he came through to visit him, Valentine was even more convinced that his cause was blessed and true. His vision, his destiny, was to exterminate the Downworlders and cleanse the world of their unholiness.

Valentine traveled down yet another set of stairs and another. The prison underneath the Gard seemed almost limitless, but he knew better-another few floors and he would be in the sewers.

It was getting darker, so dark and deep even, that when he pulled out his witchlight, it barely illuminated three feet ahead of him. Instead of going down another flight, he turned left to a narrow passageway. Valentine ducked his head so as not to bump his head on the low ceiling.

At the end of the passageway he rounded the corner into another similar to the previous one. There, at the end, was a large, solid wooden door covered in runes. The door led to the antechamber. And beyond that was perhaps the most important piece in keeping the current government stable. Valentine needed him, especially after Jonathon's information…he would be even more valuable now more than ever.

He knocked on the door, a slide immediately moved to reveal Jeremy Pontmercy's eyes. "Welcome. Are you here for the monthly visit?"

"Why else would I be here?" Valentine snapped impatiently.

"Of course." The man stumbled, a loud click resonating from the other side of the door as it was pushed out.

Valentine swept inside. "Current status on him?"

"He's been sick of late for nearly two weeks. He's very weak and all our healing runes aren't having much [e]affect on him. I think he needs a warlock-"

"He doesn't need a bloody Downworlder of any kind! He is a Shadowhunter; he should be strong enough to withstand a simple sickness," he cut in quickly. He didn't tell Jeremy that during Valentine's times questioning him, one form of torture to try and loosen his tongue was injecting him with some very powerful demon blood. Not only was it a very painful procedure, but it affected his dreams into very vivid and awful dreams. So there wasn't any real escape, until it began to wear off and by then Valentine would be back to put another dosage in his system.

"Of course," Jeremy muttered, bowing his head. " Other than that, his progress has been…" his smile twisted cruelly. "Satisfactory. He seems a bit disheartened lately after I told him news on his family. I think he's finally giving up hope on them. He may be more cooperative in helping if he thinks that they've abandoned him."

"Good work." Valentine clapped his old friend's shoulder and motioned to the door. It was crafted just as thick as the previous, only mixed with iron, electrum, and silver. It was almost completely covered in runes and holy symbols to repel any Downworlder-or Shadowhunter-from trying any form of rescue.

He pushed the door open slowly, taking a cautious step past the threshold. Valentine examined the creature in front of him, curled in a small tight ball. His black hair was matted and greasy, past his shoulders, half-covering his face. His skin was a milky and pale, a very sickly pallor.

His clothes hung in filthy scraps, ripped and torn from however many countless beatings he'd undergone. He was shivering violently due to his threadbare clothing in the dank and cold drafted cell. His fingertips and small lips were an unhealthy purplish-blue. Untouched food lay beside his bare feet. Refusing to eat anything most of the time, his what-would-have-been-lean, muscular body was skinny and frail. His pathetic frame showed off ribs poking out drastically, a gaunt face, bony shoulders and limbs. Old and new scars and bruises covered over any visible skin.

Today might be the day that he would tell him, but it was more likely that he wouldn't. No matter; Valentine was a very patient person. After all, he had all the time in the world. He shut the door for privacy, a loud scraping of metal against uneven stone resonated throughout the cell. And then startling gray eyes flew to him.

Those defiant gray eyes.

No, today would most definitely not be the day. Max Lightwood's independence and hope had to be crushed like a bug. If there was any hope of getting what he wanted, Valentine had to crush him, just like the threat to his revolution. Max's defiance would be crushed to the blackest part of oblivion.

He could promise him that.

* * *

**Dun dun don! it was a pretty good hook, right? Not too agonizing and resolved enough but also not completely resolved. Any theories on what they need max for? As you can see, Part One will definitely be focused on saving Max and some other fun adventures saving Downworlders. And Part Two is where they get down to business. **

**NOTE:I DO have a tumblr, but I just don't post anything much because I'm still trying to figure it out, so other than updates for my other stories (which by the way, YOU SHOULD ALL CHECK OUT!) that's all I'll be posting for a while I'm a very confused person on there... Originally, I was going to start posting the Sequel at the end of July or the beginning of August...but due to the fact that i just realized I have about three weeks at two different camps, I porbs won't be posting until maybe mid-September...I know...Really long time from now, but I NEED IT if I want it to be super awesome like all the rest of you want it to be!  
**

**Also! If you could say one thing you really liked about this story, that would be much appreciated!**

**Signing out,**

**-Lau**


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